Punishment
by zheuse
Summary: The Watcher's Council has gone too far. Xander Harris takes it upon himself to hold them accountable for their actions.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

Rupert Giles sat at his office rereading a letter dropped off an hour prior. The events of two weeks ago had wounded his soul, and he was not doing well. The deaths of the two slayers and their friends and family were sudden, due to the actions of a single minded arrogant prick who thought himself to be a watcher. With a simple phone call, Wesley Windham-Price had caused the deaths of eight people, three of which were children. The ponce hadn't even cared who was killed as a result. Now, in his hand, Rupert held a written statement that contained all the warning the Watcher's Council would ever get.

Picking up his phone, he called the one person he knew would be able to deliver the message to the leaders of the Council itself. "Hello, Father. I know I haven't kept in touch in years, however, there is an issue that needs to be taken care of."

"..."

"Yes. I am well aware I no longer work for the Council. I was asked to pass a message along. I assume you will be able to relay it to rest of the leadership."

"..."

"The message is not addressed to any person, so I would think the message was meant for the Council as a whole. You may want to write it down. It is as follows:

'I leave this as a declaration of intent, so no one will be confused. Number One: Sic vis pacem, para bellum. Latin. Soldiers throughout the last two millennia have used it as a prayer. Sic vis pacem, para bellum. If you want peace, prepare for war. Number Two: Xander Harris is dead. He died with his family. The family you ordered killed. Willow Rosenberg, best friend and the sister I wished I had. Buffy Summers, Slayer and Hero and the woman I loved. Joyce Summers, who was more of a mother to me than my own and loved me like a son. Faith Lehane, Slayer who just needed a little help to get back on the right path. Number Three: In certain extreme situations, the law is inadequate. In order to shame its inadequacy it is necessary to act outside the law. To pursue … natural justice. This is not vengeance. Revenge is not a valid motive, it is an emotional response. No, not vengeance. Punishment. For the Watchers Council's willful murder of the innocent. For the Watchers Council's failure to protect humanity from the Watcher Council's own selfish interests. The Watchers Council will receive its punishment.' The missive is unsigned."

"..."

"No, it was delivered by courier. I am not sure Alexander Harris wrote it, as I did go to his funeral. If it is from him, I would say you may have a serious problem on your hands. One last item. I will be ceasing all contact with the Watcher's Council, and have no intention of returning to England. My citizenship papers arrived yesterday, and as of now, I hold dual citizenship. Good-bye, Father."

Hanging up the phone, Rupert laid the letter on top of his desk.

* * *

Chapter One (Occurs in S03E15 'Consequences' the morning after Wesley calls the Council about Faith killing Allen Finch)

The bright sunny morning was entirely too uplifting for Xander Harris, as he left his home headed for school. Memories of the previous night kept him from his normal exuberant mood. Considering it had begun with the Deputy Mayor's death, due to being mistaken for a vampire during a brawl, it was not an unusual day in Sunnydale. When your High School paper has an obituary page every week, it would take more than one person dying to really ruin his mood. The memories of later that evening and night were the ones haunting him.

Spending part of the night with Faith had been interesting and exciting. Losing his virginity had been quite fun. The manner in which he and Faith had connected was scarily enjoyable. It was the aftermath which resembled a car crash. Faith's philosophy of 'get some, get gone' left Xander's boxer clad form standing outside at night in vampire territory. Thankfully luck had been with him till he was safe in his own bedroom in the basement at home. That was what had Xander's mood firmly in the darker venue. It never worked that way in the stories he read in Penthouse Letters, mind you he did have to give some consideration to the source of those stories. Xander knew he had to do some deep thought on this before he would be comfortable with himself.

So focused on his thoughts, he barely paid attention in his classes throughout the day. Being one of the social outcasts, this hardly registered to the other students. He proceeded on autopilot, with only his interactions with his two best friends Willow and Buffy providing interruptions. It was near the end of the day's classes when his thoughts prompted an answer he could deal with. As the final bell rang, he walked over to Willow, who shared the class.

"Wills, I'll meet you lovely ladies in the library later. I have a couple things I need to take care of."

"Does this have to do with you being down all day?" The redhead asked.

"Yeah. Something that happened last night has been bugging me. Nothing apocalypsish, I promise." He answered.

"Want me to come with you? I could help."

"I appreciate the support. It would be great if you could help, but this is something I have to do on my own." Xander hugged his best friend as he spoke. "It may take me a bit, so do you want me to bring donuts or pizza when I get back?"

"Probably should bring pizza. Buffy skipped lunch today and she said she would be patrolling till late."

"Ok. So double the usual order. I should be in the library in an hour or two." Xander turned to leave. "Later Wills."

Leaving the school at a brisk walk, he made his way through town. His destination, Sunnydale Arms, was a only a hotel by the most lenient of definitions. Between scarce repairs, and even less cleaning, it was amazing the place had stayed in business. Xander doubted any maids had worked there during his lifetime, and the maintenance was at least a decade past due. Bare cinder block, missing wallpaper, and worn carpets were the least of the problems this place had. If you counted roaches and rats they outnumbered the human occupants at least twenty to one. After dark, vampires saw it as an easy location to find meals.

Approaching Faith's room, Xander slowed as he thought about what he would say to her. He just hoped she wouldn't laugh at him for saying what was on his mind. Summoning his courage, he knocked on the door, and froze. The door creaked as it opened slowly from the minimal force of his hand.

"Faith? You here?" Xander called through the gap created by the partially open door. "Faith?"

Xander realized something was not right when he glanced at the door frame where the latch plate was bent inwards. Instincts from his soldier memories kicked in, which also brought a rush of adrenaline. Quickly he stepped to the side of the door and placed his back against the wall. Pulling a stake out of his pants pocket he used his free hand to slowly push the door all the way open. Easing forward, he peaked around the door frame into the room, which was only illuminated by the afternoon sunlight entering through the now open doorway. The dim room seemed to be in order, well, as much order as Faith had kept it. Comparing it to what memory he had of the previous night, almost everything was in the same places. The only exceptions were the empty twelve pack of beer bottles on the table, and the shiny piece of wire sticking out from under the door.

After checking the wire to make sure it was not attached to a bomb or anything dangerous, he slowly pulled it out from under the door. It looked strange, a little over six inches of bare wire with a dart on one end. There was red on the end of the dart. His eyes narrowed as his pulse accelerated. This was not good. Slipping the wire and dart into his pocket, he moved soundlessly into the room.

As his eyes adjusted, more detail was apparent. The carpet had several spots that looked like drying blood, which meant it was fairly fresh. Following the trail with his eyes only, it led to the only other door in the room. With his free hand, he opened the curtains that had been keeping most of the room in dim shadow. The flood of sunlight from the window made the spots of blood on the carpet more visible, as well as verified there were no vampires using the room to hide till sundown. Making sure to avoid the semi-fresh blood on the carpet, Xander made his way to the other door. As he approached, he noticed the door was not completely closed. He could see the light in the bathroom had been left on. Using the toe of his boot, he nudged the door open. Once glance at it's contents sent Xander's brain into shock. He barely made it outside the hotel room before he fell to his knees, and began emptying his stomach of what little it contained.

Three hours later, Xander was still in shock as he entered the library. It was nearly sunset, far later than he had told Willow he would be. The others in the library saw his entrance, with Buffy being the first to address him.

"Thought you were bringing pizza, I am starving. Please tell me you didn't forget." The blonde began. "I was planning on patrolling till after midnight tonight."

When Xander didn't respond, Buffy looked at him again. She saw his pale complexion and damp shirt. Willow also noticed something wrong.

"Xander?" Willow asked. "Are you ok? Is something wrong? Did you get mugged getting the pizza? Did they get the order wrong? Were they closed for some reason? Did vamps eat Mrmph..." her questions were interrupted by Buffy's hand covering her mouth, muffling what Willow was saying.

"Xander? Sit down." Buffy calmly said as she ended the babble fest from the redhead.

Xander didn't acknowledge he had heard either of the two girls other than to shamble to a chair at the table his two friends sat at. His eyes never focused on anything in front of him as he made his way, and as he sat down, Xander missed the chair sending him to the floor with a loud thump. Jumping to her feet, Buffy quickly knelt next to him. That was when she noticed the pungent odor coming from Xander.

"He smells like vomit." Buffy said, looking up to Willow and to Giles who had come out of his office at the noise. Sliding an arm under Xander's shoulder, she lifted him and placed him into the chair he had originally tried to sit in. "Ewww. His shirt is wet, and now mine is. I hope I can get the smell out."

Giles cleared his throat. "It seems he may be in shock. Willow, would you please get him a cup or two of water. Buffy, see if you can find some paper towels or something for him to wipe his face with. I have a spare bottle of mouthwash in my office. Give him a few minutes to gather his thoughts you two can ask him what happened. Assaulting him with inquiries before he is ready will only make the situation worse."

As the girls quickly left to gather the items requested, Rupert Giles went into his office to retrieve a bottle and shot glass. Upon returning, he placed the shot glass in front of Xander and poured half a shot from the bottle of Lamb's Navy Rum. Returning the bottle to his office, he stooped to pick up the waste basket from next to his desk. The girls had not yet returned, but Giles knew they would be back momentarily. After setting the waste basket next to Xander's chair, he knelt down next to the boy and spoke in a soft voice.

"Alexander, I do not know what happened to put you in this state, but you need to come out of it." Picking up the shot glass, he used his other hand to move Xander's right hand up to it. "Drink this. It will help you, and also get rid of the bad taste in your mouth."

For a moment, Giles wondered if Xander had even heard what had been said since his entrance to the library. After a few seconds, Xander's hand moved, taking a shaky grip on the shot glass. There it paused for a moment before continuing upward. It took only a few seconds for the potent alcohol to take effect. Xander's reaction would have been humorous in most other circumstances, however, as the teen shivered and began coughing.

"What the hell was that?" Xander exclaimed.

"That was a proper British rum. I cannot stand the swill they call rum here in the colonies." The older man replied. "It was the fastest way to get you to respond. You seem to be in a bit of shock, and I was concerned for you, Alexander."

"Definitely got my attention." Xander replied as the two girls returned with their supplies. "Hey girls."

Willow nearly dropped the four cups of water she was carrying as she attempted to rush to her best friend's side. "Xanderareyouokyoudidn'tsayanythingwhenyoucameinandwewereworriedaboutyouandyousmelllikeyouthrewupand...mrmph." Buffy's hand once again ended the babble.

"She has water and I brought some paper towels and wet wipes if you want to clean up a little. Think your shirt is totaled though." Buffy added.

"Thanks. I am still way wierded out. Can you give me a few minutes to clean up?" Xander asked.

"I think we can do that, Alexander. Use my office if you need. I have several spare undershirts in the bag next to the door." Giles replied.

Nodding, Xander stood, taking the wipes and paper towels to Giles's office. A few minutes later, he returned to the library table feeling much cleaner and a bit less smelly. Seeing the cups of water at the open seat, he sat and downed two of them.

"Faith is dead." Xander stated. When no one spoke in reply, he continued. "I went over to talk to Faith at her hotel. I figured out something was wrong when I knocked on the door and it opened on its own. I checked the front of the room out, and found this."

Xander pulled out the piece of wire attached to the dart he had recovered from Faith's hotel room. Holding it by the end of the wire, he set it down on the table in front of him. "There is blood on it, fairly fresh too. I also found more blood, small spots of it leading from next to the front door to the bathroom door. I used my foot to open the bathroom door and found her in a bathtub full of blood and water. Both her wrists and throat were cut open."

Xander paused a moment, then lurched for the wastebasket next to his chair. After emptying the almost non-existent contents of his stomach, he used a paper towel to wipe his mouth. "I called the cops, for all the help they are. I came straight here once the cops let me leave. It took them all of two minutes to rule it a suicide, and that was before anyone even stepped into the room. They weren't even trying to investigate. Every other department in the country would see what I saw and call it murder. Whoever did it took the knife with them, and left that piece of wire behind."

As Xander finished, silence filled the library. He reached for the other two water cups and drank them fairly quickly while watching the three others at the table. He watched as Willow stared at him, with her mouth open slightly, her already pale skin now ghostly white. Buffy sat with her eyes closed, her jaw clinched shut, and her hands in tight fists as she tensed up. Giles had removed his glasses, but instead of his normal polishing of the lenses when he was at a loss for words, he rubbed his temples with his free hand.

The first to speak was Giles. "I believe you are correct, Alexander. From what you have said, it is apparent that suicide is not what occurred. I have heard of something similar having happened in Spain over a decade ago, however, I will need to make phone calls before I can confirm my suspicions."

"What kind of demon did it, Giles. It needs to be put down. I want it dead." Buffy said in a flat tone.

"Buffy, if this is what I think, it was not a demon. I will not know more until after I call some of my contacts. Since the Council terminated my employment, I do not have as many sources of information as I once did. If this is what I think it is, then it is not something you can kill." Giles replied. "Buffy, I will not ask you to stay home tonight, however, I would suggest you be careful. I know your anger needs an outlet, so perhaps Willie's would be a place for you to start tonight. His usual customers in what he calls a bar may have some information on who may have ended Faith's life. I can drive Willow and Alexander home."

Almost before he could finish talking, Buffy had MOVED. His intellect could not describe fluid her progression across the room to the weapons cage and then out the door. Glancing over, he saw several stakes and a bastard sword missing from their places. Sighing he stood.

"Gather your things. It is already after sundown, and I would like to be home before too many of the dangers have come out to hunt." Looking at the two teens still seated at the table, he saw Willow still staring at Alexander, while the target of her focus toyed with the empty paper cup in his hand. He watched as the buy stood and walked around to his redheaded friend and gave her a hug.

"Come on, Wills. Time to go home. Your parents should be home from their trip. Spend some time with them before they leave for the next lecture tour." Xander said softly as he helped Willow to her feet. "Lead the way, G-man."

Rupert Giles shook his head. "Will you ever stop calling me that abhorrent name."

For the first time seen today, Xander smirked. "The day after the world ends."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Xander did not sleep after being dropped off by Giles. Too many questions and not enough answers combined with avoiding his inebriated parents meant restful sleep was far away. He managed to avoid several drunken swings from his father before making his way down the stairs to the basement he now lived in. His bedroom was decent sized, considering it took up the entirety of what used to be a cold war bomb shelter. Three foot thick concrete walls with a fairly hefty steel door made the basement one of the safest places in Sunnydale. Three of the walls had metal shelves bolted directly into walls and floor. Most of the boxes were filled with junk his parents hadn't gotten around to pawning for booze money, or items no pawn shop would take. With a sigh, he sat on his bed and pulled out the one piece of evidence he had, the dart with wire trailing from it.

Memories of the previous Halloween surfaced as he sat in his basement bedroom. What his friends had called 'soldier boy' was far more than he had let on. When everyone else had lost most if not all of the memories from their costumed personas, Xander had retained everything. An entire lifetime of memories and experience from childhood to eventual death, 'soldier boy' was far more than a simple infantryman. Nearly a decade of experience as a US Marine was followed by years of life as a federal agent. Now those investigative skills were moving to the fore of his mind as he thought back to what he had found in Faith's hotel room.

Someone had killed Faith, and made it look close enough to suicide that the local cops were going to do nothing. Not that the local cops were willing to investigate most of the deaths in town, considering they were less useful than a mall rent-a-cop. This left Xander's thoughts wandering down paths usually ignored. Giles had mentioned it was not likely a demon was responsible for Faith's death, but rather someone human. Human on human violence was something Buffy would be unable to deal with since slayers were not allowed to kill evil humans. This left Xander thinking about how a normal human would be able to take out a slayer.

A brief flash of memory made him wince. The sight of Faith's body floating in the bathtub tinted red by the diluted blood would never leave his memory. Neither would the look of helpless fear on her face, eyes wide open staring at the ceiling above and her mouth open in a silent scream. Then there were the visible wounds, both slashed wrists cut across severing blood vessels and tendons as well as the sliced throat opened almost to her spine. An assortment of scars and bruises of various ages had also been visible on her skin, including some fresher injuries.

Running down the list of fresh injuries were a split lip that she had not had the night before and three marks on her left breast. Almost like needle punctures, which normally would have healed over in a few minutes at most for a slayer. Punctures... Glancing at the bloodied dart in his hand he realized it was likely what made that trio of marks. Not one dart, but three, but what were they for. The darts alone wouldn't have fazed a slayer. There must be something else.

Going over the scene in his mind again, he realized there was another lone puncture on her right arm, on the inside of the elbow. Possible injection? Seemed to fit. Without further evidence, it would be impossible to say for sure. But how would someone get close enough to give her an injection? Faith hadn't trusted anyone really, so Xander doubted she would willingly let someone drug her.

Xander's thoughts were interrupted by a loud crash from upstairs. It took less than a heartbeat for his soldier instincts to kick in. Lunging over his bed, he reached for the crossbow he used when patrolling with Buffy. Then he took cover behind the steel door to his room as he turned off the lights. Several loud blasts were heard from upstairs, likely from shotguns if Xander had to guess. It was fairly obvious that his parents, drunks that they were, probably no longer counted amongst the living. Peaking around from behind the door, he watched as several shadowed figures in tactical gear moved past the entrance to the basement stairwell. Listening, he could make out several voices with English accents clearing the rooms upstairs. Not for the first time, he was thankful for the hyena possession his freshman year.

"Main floor clear" said the first voice.

"Check the basement, we know he's still here."

"Make it fast. We meet up with the other two teams in ten minutes."

Xander mentally swore. Three teams. Buffy and Willow! He had to get to them. Moving slightly out from behind the steel door, he took aim with the crossbow. No silhouetted figures were yet visible at the top of the stairs. The first one he saw was going to get a bolt in the chest. Last time he had checked, crossbow bolts would go through Kevlar. Patiently, he remained motionless as shadows moved closer to the top of the stairs. Taking a slow breath to calm his nerves as much as possible, Xander realized the entire attack up to this point had taken less than thirty seconds. His 'soldier boy' memories were a great help preventing him from falling into a panic.

Movement at the top of the stairs refocused Xander on the figures upstairs. A few seconds later, a more solid form was back lit by the illumination from the upstairs hallway. Squeezing the trigger on the crossbow, the steel pointed heavy wooden bolt flew. Ducking back behind the door, he began to reload as screams came from upstairs. Hidden behind the heavy steel door, he was fairly safe from the lead slugs and pellets that began ricocheting down the concrete stairwell. As the return fire slowed, he risked looking around the door and up into the stairs. Instantly he regretted it.

Pain greeted him as the left side of his face erupted in a crimson spray. Xander fell back behind the door as he dropped the crossbow. Fighting through the pain, he crawled over to the foot of his bed, leaving a trail of blood beneath him. Reaching under his bed with his right hand, he pulled out a six inch cylinder with a lever on one side. Taking the ring on one end in his left hand, he pulled till the attached pin came free. Staggering to the door way, he released the lever. Using his remaining strength he threw the cylinder up the stairwell. Falling away from the door, Xander barely made it behind his dresser when the cylinder at the top of the stairs exploded, sending incandescent white fragments and smoke in all directions. The effect was devastating.

The two surviving intruders had no time to escape. They were attempting to retreat as the white phosphorous grenade detonated less than five feet from them. Instantly, the heat flash cooked exposed flesh, Many fragments impeded themselves into deeper tissues increasing the pain and damage caused by the heat. Moments later, the ammunition and explosives on the two living and one dead intruder reached critical temperature. Bullets cooked off and grenades exploded shaking the house, and causing massive damage to the hallway. Unfortunately, this caused shrapnel to pierce the gas main for the house. When the leaking gas combined with the super-heated phosphorous still in the air, the ensuing explosion shattered the house itself, creating a fireball nearly a hundred feet high. The shock wave sent Xander into unconsciousness.

* * *

Waking up normally was not this painful, or comfy. The left side of his face was hurting, hell, his whole body was hurting, Yet he was in a much more comfortable bed than he remembered having at home. At home... the home he had thrown a grenade in. The home he had probably killed someone in. The home where his parents were likely dead. With a start, he opened his eyes, and realized he could only see out of his right eye. Aching muscles screamed in agony as he moved, only to be restrained by a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Alexander, please remain still, you are safe here." Xander recognized Giles's voice. "You have been unconscious for three days. You almost died several times before the doctors were able to stabilize your condition."

Dry throat not withstanding, Xander was able to barely speak. His voice rasped "Willow... Buffy.. Are they OK?"

The silence Xander heard was enough of a reply for him. He knew something had happened to his girls, something Giles did not want to talk about. Xander needed answers, now. Straining his already dry throat, he said "Water?"

Deep in the recesses of his mind, a normally silent spirit was awake. A low growling came from it's shadowed form as it moved out of the darkness into the forefront of Xander's consciousness. Thoughts began to flow from the hyena spirit to Xander's mind. 'Pack. Who hurt pack? We KILL those who hurt pack!'

"Yes, of course." Giles picked up a cup, filled it with water, then placed a straw inside so Xander could drink without spilling the liquid. As Giles came close enough, Xander's left hand flashed out to grab hold of Giles's shirt collar. Quickly, Xander pulled him close, till they were nearly eye to eye. Giles was close enough that the yellow glow in Xander's one eye took up most of his field of vision. In his shock, Giles neither resisted nor held onto the cup, dropping it onto the floor next to the hospital bed.

"WHAT happened? I want answers." Xander's voice was gravelly, and harsh. "Tell me what happened before I do something you will regret."

"It is not good. I am not sure I have all the facts, but I will tell you what I have been able to piece together. Now please let go of my shirt and let me get you some more water. This will take more than a few minutes." Giles stated. Slowly Xander released his grip allowing Giles to recover the cup from the floor. Pouring more water into the cup and adding a new straw, he handed the cup to Xander, who immediately began relieving his thirst. Once Xander had taken his first sip, Giles continued. "I want you do understand something first, Alexander. Willow and Buffy, as well as their parents, are also dead. Your parents bodies, as well as three unidentified others were found in the charred remains of your house. To protect you, I had to place a few bribes, so you were officially declared dead two days ago. How you survived the explosion was a miracle."

Xander's good eye closed and the glow faded as he sagged back against the bed as Giles spoke. Dead. Everyone was dead. Willow, his best friend since forever. Buffy, his hero, and woman he loved. He felt like he was in hell. At this point, it would have been better if he had actually died. Without his friends, what was the point of living. Suddenly, his thought process changed. Taking a deep breath, he pushed his feelings of despair and hopelessness down into a far corner of his mind. Opening his eye, he locked gazes with Giles. Then his mouth opened, emitting a single word. "How?"

For a moment, Xander thought Giles would remain silent. Instead, Xander watched as Giles removed his glasses and began to polish the lenses. "From what I have been able to determine, Joyce Summers was killed just before sundown the same night you were attacked. It appears she returned home from her gallery, and was killed before she had a chance to remove her coat. Her body was found in front of the sofa in the main room. She was shot twice in the back of her head. Buffy was found just inside the front door of her house, with more than forty entry wounds from at least three fully automatic weapons. I believe she was ambushed as she returned home from her patrol and was shot as she opened her front door. I doubt she felt it before she died.

"Willow and her parents died in their sleep from what the police reports say was carbon monoxide poisoning. Someone left the central heating unit go without repairs, and faulty safety cutoffs allowed the house to become full of lethal fumes. She and her parents went to sleep and never awakened.

"As for your house, in addition to the three unidentified bodies found near the top of the stairwell, your parents bodies were found in the street. It appears they were thrown clear of the majority of the fire by the force of the explosion. Both appeared to have suffered multiple wounds from what looked to be a shotgun. The three charred bodies inside were wearing the remains of military style clothing and equipment, and were armed with shotguns, pistols, and several sub-machine guns. The fire department speculates that one or more bullets opened a gas leak, causing the explosion. The explosion also damaged a stolen black SUV parked in front of your house, enough so it was no longer usable."

Xander was well awake by this point. The water, having soothed his parched mouth and throat, was gone from his cup. Keeping his breathing steady, he began running through his memories of investigative techniques. "Giles, I need you to get ahold of all police, fire, and coroners reports connected to this. And you mentioned in the library that you may have contacts who could pass you information? Did they say who was responsible for Faith's murder, and I assume Buffy's and Willow's as well?"

"All evidence I can locate points to the Watcher's Council. Quentin Travers called me directly. The pillock informed me I was alive only because my father is a member of the Council. He also stated that I was not to have any contact with any members of the Council or it's allies, including the Devon Coven. I can quite honestly say I believe the Council was responsible for all of this. The phone call is what caused me to have you declared dead. Travers is ruthless, and will not leave loose ends. It is also why I had you moved to a clinic in Oxnard under a false name." Giles's voice grew quiet as he finished. "He ordered the deaths of three who I consider my children, and there is nothing I can do about it."

Xander watched as Giles slumped in his chair, he had never seen the older man cry. Xander thought it strange that he himself was not in tears as well. As he watched Giles sob into his hands, Xander knew the Watchers Council would never be brought to justice through legal means. Giles had mentioned many times that the Council had contacts and relationships with many of the world's governments in order to facilitate travel by watchers and slayers. God only knew what it would take to bring Travers and his fellow criminals down.

Plans and strategies played through Xander's mind, courtesy of 'soldier boy'. Any plan involving the help of law enforcement was immediately discarded, due to the likelihood of the cases being dropped or ignored. That left lawyers and the not so legal plans. The hyena spirit seized on one idea, the same idea was also the focus of the memories of the military persona left over from Halloween. As the idea came to the main part of Xander's conscious thought processes, Xander became very still.

"Giles, did my wallet happen to survive the explosion?"

Slowly assuming his usual stoicism, he replied. "Yes, it did. I was able to collect it as part of your personal effects after your 'death'"

"I need a phone number from it. It should be behind my library card."

As Giles read off the number, Xander dialed the phone that was on the small table next to the hospital bed. After three rings, it was answered.

"Uncle Rory. Code Overkill. Location Oxnard. Twelve hours."

Not waiting for a reply, Xander hung up the phone. Silence filled the room as Xander sat in thought. It was a few minutes before it was broken by Giles, having composed himself. "Alexander, might I ask what that phone call was about?"

"You will find out in twelve hours. For now I need clothes, and to get out of here. We need to meet my uncle at the RV park in twelve hours, and I have a couple things to do first. The first being food. I feel like I haven't had any in a week."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

In contrast to the corruption and ineptitude of municipal services, the mortuary services in Sunnydale were fast and efficient. Xander had still been unconscious when the funerals had been held. As much as he wished he could have been there for Willow and Buffy's services, considering he was legally dead, it would have raised too many questions and blown his chance of staying hidden. Giles had been to all of the services, even Mr and Mrs Harris's funerals. Not surprising was that Giles was the only person at that funeral.

Xander's memorial service had been fairly small, consisting of Cordelia and Giles. Cordelia had broken down for a few moments as the ash filled urn was placed in the mausoleum, then she wiped her tears and quickly left. Unsurprisingly, she was not present for the rest of the funerals. Giles had paid very well for an unidentified John Doe to be cremated in Xander's place, but none could know the truth for now. Giles only wished he had been able to ease Cordelia's broken heart.

Willow and her parents had been buried within 24 hours per Jewish tradition. It was a large service with most of the synagogue in attendance as well as several professional acquaintances of the Rosenbergs. The Jewish cemetery had the highest percentage of undesecrated dead still in the ground. Due to Jewish burial traditions, very few ended up being disturbed or returning to a false life of the undead.

Buffy and her mother were cremated, as per Joyce's will. Their ashes were spread off one of the small coastal cliffs near Sunnydale by Giles himself. He had been accompanied by several of the students from the high school as well as a couple business owners who knew Joyce. Of all the memorials and funerals he attended over the three days, this had been the hardest. His charge, Buffy, who he had been repairing his relationship with, who he thought of as a daughter, was gone. Joyce, a woman who had amazing strength of character, and whom he did have some romantic feelings for, was also gone. Both of them had been killed by the very organization with which he had worked for decades.

Bringing his thoughts back to the present, Giles sat in his barely functioning Citroen just outside the abandoned RV park in Oxnard. Glancing over at Xander, he took in the boy's demeanor. Never had he seen such focus and determination from him, at least not combined with a deadly silent rage. Since they had departed the clinic earlier in the day, Giles had listened to Xander as he explained what was going through his mind. Between the knowledge that not one but two spiritual possessions were still active in the boy, he had come to realize he didn't know the boy as well as he believed. Not only was the boy... make that young man... still sane, but he seemed to be in complete control of his actions. According to the journals and books he had available for research, being able to stay in complete control during a single possession was rare. Giles realized he had vastly underestimated the strength of Xander's willpower.

Giles's attention was drawn to the headlights approaching from behind his car. The vehicle came to a stop not far behind them and the headlights were doused. Xander opened his door and exited the small seat he had been squeezed into. Giles followed almost immediately. Walking toward the truck twenty feet from his car, he watched as Xander and the older man hugged.

"Xander. Ya almost gave me a heart attack when ya called. I only found out last night that you and your parents were dead. For you to call me this morning... Damn good to see ya!"

"Good to see you too Unc. We are going to need your help. How much were you able to bring?" Xander asked.

"You are lucky. I was already moving to a new hideout when you called. Was planning on selling most of it then heading south of the border after I heard you and your parents were gone. All the heavy stuff is still in storage, but the RV has most of the lighter stuff. Go ahead and take a look. If ya notice anything ya need that ain't there, let me know. I can get it for ya."

Jogging to the RV attached to the rear of the truck, Xander opened the door and entered. Giles looked at the man he assumed was Rory Harris, Xander's uncle on his father's side. Extending his right hand, Giles introduced himself.

"I assume you are Uncle Rory. My name is Rupert Giles."

"That would be me. Giles? Oh yeah. Xander talks about you quite a bit. Calls ya G-man mostly."

"That would be me. I do apologize for your belief that Alexander was among the dead. Considering what occured, it was in his best interest that everyone believe he had not survived. I arranged for him to have legally died so no one would continue to pursue him. I only wish I could have done more."

"Ya got my nephew out alive. It was more than I could do. I tried to get custody of him for years, but between the police ignoring all of the abuse his parents caused plus my background, there was no way I could get him out of that house. I tried for twelve years before my brother paid off some cops to drive me out of town. I still snuck in to visit Xander when I could, but I had to be careful."

"If I had known he was being physically assaulted by his parents, I would have tried to gain custody myself. Might I ask if you know what Alexander has planned? He was resolutely silent on the subject when I inquired." Giles asked.

"No clue. We set up a series of code words that mean various things. He used Overkill, which meant lots of light weapons, from pistols and rifles to fifty cal machine guns. Not the worst code word we set up, not by a long shot. Overkill means this RV, so he can gear up in case something needed to be dead. I wasn't going to do it at first, till he showed me what happens in Sunnydale at night. Scared the piss out of me. So we sat down one night and evaluated different threat levels. We have a dozen code words, and Overkill is number four with twelve being the highest."

"He informed you of the supernatural threat?"

"Kinda hard not to pay attention when you watch a vamp turn to dust three feet from your face. Was in town visiting him about a year ago, and we got jumped by two of em. He dusted both of em pretty quick. Then he had me drive us to a diner about an hour out of town and explained it to me. Told me about him being possessed by a soldier too. If ya believe it was just a simple soldier, you are very mistaken."

Giles head snapped to face Rory. "Mistaken? I was under the impression he was wearing a camouflage uniform of a simple soldier. He never mentioned it was anything beyond that until today, yet he offered no details."

"Then I wont spoil it for ya. Come on. Lets get you geared up." Rory turned and headed toward the RV door. Opening it, Rory waved his free hand indicating Giles should go first.

Complying, Giles entered the RV and froze in stunned amazement. Mounted on the walls of the RV were several racks holding an assortment of firearms. Just like Rory had stated, but Giles had not really grasped what was being said. Nearly fifty handguns of various styles and calibers sat where a small kitchen would normally have been. On the opposite wall, the pantry and stove had been removed leaving larger racks for rifles. Magazine fed and bolt action were arrayed in two neat rows. To the front of the RV were several more racks with heavier weaponry of the belt fed variety as well as several tubes that he recognized from the incident with the Judge.

At the rear of the RV, seated at a table, was Xander. In front of him were four pistols and two magazine fed rifles. Xander was partway through cleaning of one of the rifles, and it looked like he had already cleaned the second. The pistols were sitting to the side waiting for attention.

"Alexander, might I ask what you are planning?" Giles inquired, still standing just inside the door.

"It is simple, Giles. They killed Faith, Buffy, Willow, and our families. I am going to return the favor. You and I both know there will be no arrests or even an investigation. From what I remember of your speeches about the Council, they are pretty much above the law, and they know it. I am going to need both you and Uncle Rory to help me plan this out. The Council may not care about leaving the Hellmouth unguarded, but I do. Less than three months to apocalypse season and they killed both active slayers, one of which has three years experience. And this wasn't the first time they tried to kill her." Xander paused a moment. "Giles, it is time for you to pick a side. How many innocents and champions for good does the council have to kill before you realize they don't care about good or evil. They care only about themselves and their control over others."

"Alexander, it is more complicated than that. The resources of the Council extend beyond books. They have the manpower to operate nearly a dozen wetworks teams, several dozen trained users of magic, hundreds of lawyers on retainer around the world. Not to mention contacts and employees in various levels of governments around the world. Then there is the financial side. Over a thousand years of investments gives them the monetary power of a country larger than Japan." Giles explained as he cleaned the lenses of his glasses.

Xander cut him off. "Giles. I don't plan on waging war on one front. I want to attack them on ALL fronts. The problem is I need intel before we can make a plan. And we need Oz. He is as good as Willow is... was... I need him to help gather intel and hack into their systems. Once we have the intel we need, then we can begin dismantling them while building a new Council, one that actually does the job the Watcher's Council claims to. I want them to see it happening, to know I am coming, and realize there isn't a fucking thing they can do about it."

Locking his gaze on Giles's eyes, Xander repeated his statement. "Giles, it is time for you to pick a side. You have ten minutes till we need to leave, so that is your deadline. Either way I need to be dropped off at a safe house I set up in Sunnydale." With his ultimatum given, Xander stood and headed to the front of the RV. Giles watched as he opened several storage boxes, removing loaded magazines which were placed in a reinforced duffel bag. Before zipping the bag closed, a black Kevlar tactical vest and equipment harness were added. Returning to the front of the RV, he squeezed past Giles and tossed the duffel into the back seat of Giles's car.

Returning to the table in the RV, Xander pulled out another duffel bag. This time he loaded the two rifles, four pistols, and a couple cleaning kits into it. Moving to the drawers under the pistol racks, he began removing almost a dozen holsters and some other items Giles did not immediately recognize. Before Xander stood back up, Giles had made his decision.

"Alexander, consider me on your side. Over the last few months, since before the Crucimanteum, I have been giving quite a bit of thought concerning the traditions and actions the Watchers have been taught. I will have to be careful since they will likely have me under observation for the next few months. If I were to overtly take any action they deem to be a threat to the Council or any of its members, I will likely be killed. It is quite probable they have my phones tapped and possibly have microphones hidden in my flat. If I go into hiding they will assume I mean to betray them and send someone to remove me."

"Not a problem, Giles." Xander said as he finished packing the items he had selected. "The main focus right now is intelligence. We need it. Once we have it, then we can make a plan. Once you drop me off at the safe house, stay visible and take no action. Act like you are following their instructions. Tomorrow at school, get a message to Oz to come to the safe house. Lets go." Turning to his Uncle Rory. "As soon as we figure out a plan, I will let you know what we need. Most likely it will just be ammo, at least for a while. I will need to set up a couple of dead drops for deliveries so you don't have to tow the RV around."

"Works for me, kid. Just remember, if ya have to evac, use the bolt hole I showed ya last year. That place can survive anything shy of a nuke. It is stocked with supplies for a year plus enough weapons and ordinance to give an armored division a major headache." Rory replied.

"Got it. Later Unc." Xander hugged him before turning to Giles's car. Opening the trunk, he placed the second duffel bag inside, closed the trunk, and got into the passenger seat. Giles started his car after climbing inside, and as quickly as he could, began heading back toward Sunnydale.

* * *

Oz had ditched the rest of classes for the day one he had been passed a message from Giles while he was in the library. It was a fairly short note. 'Xander is alive and needs help. He wants you to meet him at 1003 Revello Drive. Park behind house' As reactions go, it was not often shock showed on his face. It took nearly all his self control to not sprint directly to the address he had been given. Instead, he made a visit to the nurse's office, and ten minutes later he was headed out the door to his van.

It took less than ten minutes for Oz to locate the house, six blocks from where Buffy had lived. Pulling into the driveway, he followed it behind the house and parked in front of the closed garage door. In case this was a trap, Oz cautiously got out of the van and sniffed the air as he looked around. Enclosed back yard, fifteen foot privacy fence, several video cameras covering all of the yard plus the driveway. Since he was likely already visible to whoever was in the house, Oz walked to the rear entrance and knocked. Before his knuckles hit the door a second time the door opened. Taking another sniff, Oz relaxed. Stepping inside he let Xander close the door.

"How?" Oz said as he looked around.

"Me being alive? Or this safe house?"

Oz gave him a look that expressed more than mere words could.

"I survived on luck and cold war paranoia. My parents kicked me into the basement last year. They wanted my room upstairs as a guest room for when Tony's drunk friends stayed over. Lucky for me, the basement was an old cold war bomb shelter, complete with concrete walls and heavy steel door. As for this place, it belongs to my uncle. When he found out about what goes bump in the night, he wanted me to have a place I could go to just in case."

Oz nodded. "Why me?"

Leading Oz to the dining room, Xander waved a hand at a couple chairs as he sat down to continue cleaning the pistol he had disassembled on the table. "Couple of reasons. First being I know fuck all about computers and I can't call Willow." Xander's voice grew quiet and his tone more serious. "She was like a sister to me. Fifteen years of being best friends and now she is gone. She loved you, ya know. I am pretty sure you felt the same way she did. That brings me to the second reason. Those fuckers took her away from both of us. They took Buffy and Faith. They killed Mrs Summers, who I wish had been my mom. Did you know Faith was only 16? I didn't until I read the death announcement in the paper. Those assholes killed them for no better reason than someone didn't like Buffy or Faith being slayers.

"I want to know everything about them so we can take them apart, down to the foundations. Then I want to pulverize the foundations. I want to take their assets and resources. I want to build a council that will do what it was supposed to do. I am hoping you want to help me. I figure you would want your pound of flesh of the group that took Willow from both of us. So are you in?"

Oz had sat down and listened to what Xander had said. When he had first hear Willow was dead, his wolf side mourned. When he had discovered Buffy, Faith, and Xander were dead, he knew it wasn't coincidence. Now that Xander was offering him a chance for revenge, for blood, he was sure he would accept. To Xander, Oz appeared almost motionless. That was too easy, so Xander focused on Oz's eyes. Grief had given way to rage in those eyes. Xander had his answer.

"I appreciate you being here to help Oz. When you get a chance, talk to Giles. Get every scrap of information about the council that you can from him. Properties, accounts, names. That should give you plenty to start with. And if possible, see if any of the local police surveillance cameras caught what happened at our houses. I want to know who the bastards were that did all this. Get the police reports of each incident, autopsy reports, officer's notes, anything you can. I want to know everything that happened so I can return it to them before they die."

"Indeed." Oz replied. Then he looked around. "Phone line?"

"Three phone lines actually. One is already set up for a computer, but I can't say how secure it is. The other two are regular phone lines, but they are about as secure as I can make them. You can stay here if you want, but it would probably be better if you kept to your normal routine."

"True." Oz replied. Then he stood, and offered his hand. Xander shook it, then escorted him to the back door. As he exited, he turned to face Xander. "We make them bleed."

"Absolutely." Xander answered.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

To keep a very low profile, he had not left the safe house since his arrival four days earlier. Normally, Xander would have been a bit stir crazy being trapped inside for this duration. Rage kept him focused , anger kept him company, and hate kept him warm. Excluding one visit per day, just after dawn by Oz, he had no contact with the outside world. Other than checking the equipment in the basement, and the weapons he had picked up from his uncle, all of his efforts were directed toward his long term goal.

In the week since his 'death', Xander had been reading and planning. No works of literature were on the menu, however. Sitting in the small study, Xander had at least three dozen file folders, each full of information he would need to make his plans for punishment. Oz had been very busy. Each morning he had dropped off new information about the Council. While much information could be acquired legally through public information, Xander knew quite a bit of the information he had in front of him was not. Property listings, corporate holdings, phone records, and several hundred pages of financial records took up half the folders.

Eight folders contained all of the information on his friends and their families, including police and autopsy files. It had sickened him to have to look through them. Seeing those he cared about most dead on a table had almost been too much. The Autopsy photos of Buffy and Joyce had made him puke. Joyce had received two bullets to the back of her head, two small holes, but most of her face was missing from the exit of the two hollow point rounds. Buffy was worse. Half her head was gone, and her body had been torn apart into multiple pieces by the high powered weapons. Most of the other photos gave sobering testimony as to why only the Rosenbergs would have been able to have open casket funerals.

The next folder was a report on the small dart with attached wire that he had found in Faith's hotel room. From what Oz had been able to find out, it had been part of a taser. Oz had included pictures from the manufacturer's web site concerning a prototype less-than-lethal weapon that was currently being tested by several police departments in the United States. With only one hundred supposedly being used in the trial, and none available on the market yet, Oz was still attempting to track down how one had been used to subdue Faith. Using the information Xander already knew, plus what Oz had provided, it painted a sickening tableau. Someone had fired it at her, and once she was down she had been doped with enough ketamine to knock out a horse. The autopsy report showed bruising where she was held face down on the floor while someone drugged her, stripped her clothing off, and raped her. She had then been dragged into the bathtub, held down, and slaughtered. Yet Sunnydale PD still had the case listed as 'suicide'.

Half of the folders held information on individual people who were part of the council, including the nine surviving members of the wetworks team. These nine folders were Xander's main concern for the moment. Based on the dental records identification of the three dead bodies found in Xander's former home, combined with video surveillance from various places around Sunnydale, Oz had found names for all twelve of the killers. Three of the men were ex-military, having been dishonorably discharged for various offenses. Four more were foreign nationals, specifically former SAS, living in the United states. The last two would be the biggest problem, since they were active duty US Marines. The only good part was that they were all living in or around San Diego. The three dead assassins were similar in background. Two were former SAS, with the last being a active duty Sergeant in the US Army. From the information Oz had collected, all twelve had advanced combat training.

There was no way Xander would be able to take them all at once in a fair fight, so Xander had been thinking of ways to remove the remaining nine permanently. Picking them off one at a time was possible, and likely the easiest at first. Unfortunately, that would give too much warning to the rest as they started dying one by one. Phone records showed they made four check calls per day to a mobile phone that Oz had yet to be able to trace. Since all twelve had been checking in, that meant there was a handler somewhere. Based on the time tables, he would have at best six hours before the handler would realize something was wrong.

Six hours was too little time to take out all nine, and possibly the handler, if Xander were to pick them off one by one. Removing all of them at once, while much more dangerous, would also be the best way. He would have to make sure they were all in one location, preferably away from bystanders. Oz had suggested he could fake a message from their handler, since their orders seemed to be in a code via text message. Taking this into account, he could make his plan work. From the coded messages, Oz had been able to locate their safe house where their weapons and vehicles were stored, about thirty miles outside Los Angeles on Interstate 10.

Opening one of the other folders, he located the information on the safe house. It had been purchased eight years ago by a holding corporation based out of Italy, which was owned by another corporation in the Cayman Islands. Traced far enough back, the actual owner was an British company called Vigil LTD. Oh there were about twenty or so shell companies between the feed to the property and the actual owners, but all of it was traceable through public records. Considering 'vigil' was Latin for 'watcher', Xander was surprised they hadn't just named it 'Peeping Tom LTD'.

Looking over the pictures from the sale of the house years before, Xander looked for likely approaches and entry points. This wasn't some rich actor's mansion, it was too small for that. It was a fairly robust location designed to survive in an area where earthquakes were fairly common. The first hurdle was the location, being halfway up a decent sized hill with almost zero cover. Attacking during the daytime would be suicide, so night would be better. Approaching from the top of the hill would likely be the only way to remain undetected. The next obstacle was the rather solid construction. Instead of being on stilts, as many hillside homes and mansion were, someone had carved out a small section of the hillside. Thinking back to some of the movies Xander had seen, it would have been nice to just blow the stilts and drop the entire house. This did open up new avenues of approach though, and just as many escape routes. It would be impossible for him to cover all the escape routes, and impossible for him to escape if they counter attacked. This left few options.

Feeling the pieces fall together, a smile formed on Xander's face. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was not yet noon. Quickly he picked up the phone and called Oz. "Question for you. Can you get the entire wetworks team to their safe house at seven pm tomorrow?... Perfect. Want to take a trip to LA?...Ditch school and meet me here. Tomorrow is Saturday and we are going to be busy today. Oh. And we will need your van."

Finishing his first call, he placed a second. "Uncle Rory. You still in Oxnard?... Good. Getting a lift down there. Oz is coming with me... You can trust him, Willow was his girlfriend. You might say he is a little pissed off... Gonna need both of you to help me put on a show. It's time we sent a message to the pricks in England."

* * *

Oz was driving more sedately than normal to avoid bumps and potholes in the road. It was probably a good idea considering what was in the back of his van. Not for the first time he glanced toward Xander, who was riding shotgun, and wondered if Xander had gone insane. Xander was staring ahead with a grin on his face, one that would likely be compared with cartoon depictions of the Joker. Checking the rear view mirror again, Oz decided insane may have been understating it a bit.

After Oz pulled to a stop halfway up the driveway to the council safe house, Xander immediately jumped out and grabbed his toolbox from behind the front seat. Quickly he jogged up the driveway while keeping an eye out for external cameras. Not seeing any, he opened his toolbox. Donning a pair of new leather gloves, he checked the back door of the house for alarms or booby traps. A simple magnetic sensor at the top of the door was easily dealt with as Xander opened the door slowly. He froze instantly, seeing a thin wire attached to a hook near the floor. Using a dental mirror, Xander was able to see the wire tied on one end to a pull ring of a Mk-2 hand grenade. Closing the door as much as possible, Xander used needle nosed pliers to carefully release the wire from the hook three inches from the bottom of the door. Muttering to himself, "Well that was dumb. Almost got myself killed, by an amateur tripwire."

Xander made a careful sweep of the house, after checking the alarm system. He chuckled to himself, this had been almost too easy. No motion detectors or cameras, and only a cheap alarm system. Each exterior door had been set up the same way, with a grenade tripwire. Returning outside, he signaled Oz to bring the van up to the back door, then began looking for places to leave his surprises.

The main floor was remarkably barren. Cheap folding chairs and card tables were about the largest items in most of the rooms. The second floor was similar with a dozen simple box frame beds and no other furniture. The basement was a different story, containing a mini-armory as well as a small medical station. One entire wall was taken up by maps and filing cabinets. Considering his options, Xander had to make some changes to his plan. There was no place to hide his packages inside the house, at least not any place that was not blatantly obvious.

Returning to the main floor, he exited the back door. Oz and Rory were unloading the unstable cargo from the back of Oz's van. Xander assisted until everything was on the ground behind the house.

"Hey Unc, this area that was carved out of the hill, doesn't it look kinda concave?"

"Yeah, kid. Looks like they carved it out and never did anything with it. Only that storage shed set in the very back."

"I had an idea. We put the surprises all in that shed, so when the show starts, everything is focused this way. Instead of blowing the house up, we blow it down on top of them. Plus I am pretty sure most of the weapons they have in the basement are illegal here in California, and probably in most parts of the US as well. They have explosives down there, mines, grenades, C4." Xander added.

Oz, using his patented speech method, asked a simple question. "Terrorists?"

Xander turned toward him."And more. How good are you at conspiracy theories?"

Oz nodded, then looked down at the party favors.

"Watch and learn." Rory stated. "Xander, unless you want them knowing we were here, you may want to close up the house. Then we can stow the party favors in that shed. Oz, give me a hand setting these up."

Xander quickly rearmed the booby-trap before closing the door completely. Once he verified everything was correct, he removed his bypass of the magnetic sensor over the door. He then grabbed the items he would need and helped move them to the shed nearly a hundred feet deep into the hillside. As he set the items down, he watched as Rory did his own checks on the shed door, before opening it to reveal rusted lawn equipment. Between the three of them, said equipment was pushed back to leave room in the front of the shed for Xander's fireworks. Within ten minutes, they were assembling a dozen homemade fuel air explosive bombs. It was easy work, and in the end, it took less than an hour total to set up and return to the van.

Oz, having listened as Xander and Rory described how the bombs would work, was more than ready to get as far away as he could from what would likely scare the crap out of eastern LA the next day.

* * *

Oz and Xander arrived at the safe house just after dark, having dropped Rory off in Oxnard. Taking no chances, they had driven around the block twice to verify no vampires or demons were in the area before entering the driveway to the back of the safe house. Once inside, Xander and Oz sat down in the living room.

"How good are you at puzzles?"

Oz shrugged. "Fair."

"Do you think you could build a complete organizational chart of the council? Like the FBI did with the mob back in the seventies? I want to put these guys down hard, but I know I cant get rid of them faster than they can recruit, bribe, blackmail, or threaten people to work for them. Don't get me wrong, I want them gone, mostly dead. I have the basis for a plan on how to take em down, and scare the crap out of them at the same time. They will do everything they can to stop us, so we need leverage to keep them from putting every law enforcement agency in the world from coming after us. I want a file on every person the council employs, complete bio. Including bank records to show payoffs, because there is always a money trail. If we can link all of them together, proving there is a massive international organization guilty of murder, extortion, kidnapping, bribery, espionage, anything we can find on them we can send to the feds or Interpol once the bodies are found."

Oz contemplated the idea for a few moments. "Distraction."

"Exactly. We need one. We don't want the feds chasing us with everything they have, so we give them a trail they will have to investigate. I was thinking, the wetworks team, we have enough information already to prove they are guilty of murder, plus the active military guys are guilty of treason. They accepted money from a foreign entity while in service to the US Government. Any money received over about $300 dollars is illegal to accept, and all of these guys have been accepting tens of thousands per year for at least five years. Hell, they make more from the council than they make from Uncle Sam. Considering half of them are only here on green cards, the ATF probably would love to take em down for weapons trafficking and possession." Xander paused a moment.

"Can you set up a completely untraceable email account? I mean one so hidden even the NSA can't track it?" Xander asked.

"Probably. When?" Oz replied.

"The fireworks go off at seven fifteen, so seven thirty. Send a copy of their files to the FBI, ATF, ICE, Interpol, and Scotland Yard if you can. And I think probably Army CID and NCIS since this involves three active military. Just make sure you include the entire police reports from here in Sunnydale plus the autopsy reports. May help bring down some heat on SPD as well. We want to prove all twelve of these guys were here, and were responsible for what happened, no doubt whatsoever."

Oz nodded as his eyes hardened.

Xander stood and headed to the basement, and waved Oz to follow. "Want to show you something. I think I figured out a way to get my point across, as well as generate some fear among the council fucks. Tell me what you think"

Xander opened the door to the armory room in the basement to let Oz look inside. Upon seeing the room, Oz focused on the six foot tall armor stand. Steel toe boots sat in front, with a dozen metal spikes protruding an inch from the steel toe caps. The black denim pants were heavily reinforced with Kevlar and metal trauma plates. The long black leather coat also appeared to be reinforced with Kevlar. Framed by the opening of the trench coat was the black tactical body armor Not covered by the equipment harness attached to it, the Kevlar body armor had a single emblem. It was a stylized white skull.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Over the course of twenty minutes, nine vehicles traveled up the long driveway to the council safe house, with most parking near the rear of the house. Each vehicle was occupied by a single gruff looking man dressed in black. To any outside observer, it seemed to be a friendly gathering of tough looking guys, but nothing really unusual. All nine of them had received a the same text message from their handler, which occurred fairly often. Most had gone inside, sitting at the card tables either eating or chatting with others, while a couple had gone into the basement to check the gear in the armory.

Behind the house, in the small shed at the rear of the man-made cavern, a timer was counting down. Twelve homemade fuel air explosive devices sat just inside the door of the shed. The main charge of each was a propane tank filled with a combination of propane and nearly pure hydrogen peroxide, and each tank wrapped in det cord. Duct taped to the outside of each tank was also a bundle of four sticks of dynamite. Electrical detonators attached to each device were wired to the generic timer, which was now down to the last few seconds.

Zero. Time was up. The det cord was first and it cracked and cut all twelve propane tanks open, allowing the contents to expand. The dynamite went off nearly instantaneously, creating more pressure as well as adding an ignition source for the propane and oxidizer. The high pressure of the combustible gas, in addition to the concentrated source of oxygen needed, ignited in a flash. The ensuing firestorm was focused in only one direction. The flames reached out to nearly five hundred feet, surrounding the house lighting up the evening sky. It shown like a bright beacon for a few moments before vanishing from sight.

The real damage was caused by heat or flame. As the gasses ignited, combined with the abundant oxygen, a wave of kinetic force was created. Due to the shape of the cavern being similar to a natural sound amplification chamber, it too only had one direction to go and was strengthened. It was focused, and strong. In a fraction of a second, the wave struck first the vehicles, then the house. The pressure tore the structure off the foundation, and sent much of it flying hundreds of feet as it shattered. As if the hand of God himself had struck, the house crumbled under the assault of the intense shock wave.

There were no survivors. Those on the main floor died instantly due to debris or kinetic force. Their remains would not be recognizable as human without DNA testing. The two in the basement suffered a worse fate, in that they did not die instantly, but were buried alive and crushed by tons of rubble. By chance or maybe by design, none of the explosives or other ordinance stored in the basement was set off by the massive detonation that had ripped the building apart.

* * *

Xander was in the living room of his safe house in Sunnydale, watching the news as he ate Chinese food that had been delivered by Oz earlier. At seven o'clock he had turned it on and turned it to CNN, which was something he had never done before in his life. Twenty minutes later, the ticker at the bottom of the screen showed reports of a bright flash and loud booming sound being reported by hundreds in east LA. Others were reporting what felt like a small earthquake, and reports of windows breaking almost five miles away had also occurred. Federal authorities were in route to the reported location, but had yet to comment.

Smiling, he turned off the TV. While the bomb had drawn national attention, and a swift response from federal authorities, Xander knew something had to be done. According to the information Giles had given him, the Watcher's Council had a variety of people employed. It was highly likely that some were even placed in federal agencies to assist with removing or destroying evidence. An event like this would draw too much attention for anyone to sabotage the investigations without being caught, at least for a while. This meant a real investigation into the council, probably the first one in recent times.

Heading to the study, Xander resumed his reading of new information Oz had uncovered. Each day brought more folders full of information, almost too much information for one mind to handle. Banking information showed accounts in ten countries so far, with payouts being traced to their source and destinations. This had led to more than sixty individual personnel folders. Over a dozen watchers had been located inside the United States, with most having the responsibility for a potential Slayer. There were also much smaller payouts, likely to information sources or bribes for favors.

Phone records also proved interesting. Once some of the watchers had been identified, a communications web began to form. Calls placed to international numbers at various times, were just more evidence to help create an organizational chart that would help in the take down of a self-righteous group who actions more closely resembled a terrorist organization. The problem was most of the information they had came from two very low level points, Giles and the now dead wet works team. He trusted Giles for the most part, but he had never been a favorite of the council, and thus was not privy to many secrets.

He needed a new source. Searching the folders, he located the one he was looking for fairly quickly. Opening it, he read everything in it several times. This would do nicely, and be the beginning of his punishment for the jackass that started this mess. According to the file, and what he knew having personally met the moron, he knew it would be an easy nut to crack. Setting down the folder, he stood and headed to the basement armory. Quickly he donned his protective gear. It did not take long for him to go to the weapons racks and grab the needed firearms. Two .45 ACP pistols loaded with mercury tipped hollow points, a poor man's exploding bullet, were first and went into thigh holsters. In a shoulder rig under his left arm went a tranq pistol, for keeping his target alive. He also included was a Mossberg 500 12GA shotgun, loaded with dragon's breath rounds. It should be easy to take out any vamps with what he carried. Then he added four wooden stakes to the equipment harness. The last item he grabbed was a black mask, to cover his face. Similar to what European police wore on raids, it had been painted to look like the same skull image on his body armor.

Once his equipment was ready, he went to the attached garage in the back of the house. Inside was an old Chevelle, fully restored and a bit modified. His uncle had used the restoration to teach him auto mechanics. He had not been able to spend as much time with his uncle as he would have liked, but the car had turned out pretty well. Within a few moments, he had taken to the streets in the overpowered muscle car, heading to the apartment of one Wesley Windham-Price.

* * *

Less than an hour later he returned to the garage, with an extra passenger in the trunk. His unconscious cargo was difficult to get down the stairs and into the last room in the basement. It had been built as a combination prison cell and washroom. Demon blood and guts were sometimes very difficult to remove from equipment. The bare concrete floor had only a single feature, a six inch drain in the center of the room. The walls and ceiling were solid steel plate, with only a reinforced steel door to allow entry or exit. Hanging from above were a set of manacles, adding to the decor. It took a few minutes to lift the limp body of the watcher and attach the manacles to his wrists leaving the watcher's feet unable to touch the ground.

Since it would be a bit before his captive would wake, he gathered some items to assist with his questioning of the watcher. First was couple six foot compressed gas tanks from the garage, along with some hoses and other attachments. He also picked up a makeshift blindfold from among the rags he had in the armory. The last items he needed came from the kitchen, an ammonia salt packet from the first aid kit as well as a tape recorder and a full ice cube tray.

After covering Wesley's eyes and closing the door behind him, he broke the smelling salt capsule close to the hanging man's nose. Almost instantly, the man woke and began to thrash around. Immediately, Wesley began to make demands.

"I do not know who you are, but you have made a very serious mistake! Release me at once!" When no one replied, he tried again. "My employers are very well connected, and you have no right to kidnap me in this fashion."

Xander finally spoke. "I know who you work for, and the Watcher's Council has no idea where you are. To them you are expendable."

"Then you know how much trouble you are in for taking me. Release me know and I will see that you are not prosecuted to harshly for this." Wesley replied.

"I won't be prosecuted. This town is a dangerous place, you should know that. People disappear all the time, and no one even thinks twice about it. Hell, the council killed nine people a week ago, and it barely made mention in the local paper. No one even remembers what happened and the cops investigated for all of two minutes before returning to their donuts." Xander chuckled. "I want information on the council, and you are going to give it to me."

"I most certainly will not. I will never betray my sacred duty. There is nothing you can do to force me." Wesley responded with an air of superiority.

Xander, with his face still covered by the skull mask, removed Wesley's blindfold. "You are going to tell me what you know, and if you are lucky, you may leave this room alive. Fight me on it and most of you will end up going down that drain under you feet." As he talked, Xander went over to the two tall skinny tanks and picked up the torch nozzle he had already attached.

"What is the torch for?" Wesley asked, his voice wavering slightly.

"Two thousand degrees, Wesley. Enough to turn steel into butter. It won't hurt at first. It's, uh, too hot, you see? The flame sears the nerve endings shut, killing them. Then you'll go into shock... and all you'll feel is... cold. Never would have said this in school, but Isn't science fun, Wesley?" Xander replied as he used a striker to light the oxy-acetylene torch and focus it into a bright blue flame.

"You won't. You will never get away with this." Wesley pleaded, as a wet spot formed on the front of his pants. "You can't do this to me!"

Xander walked behind Wesley, who was unable to see exactly what he was doing. Reaching down, Xander picked up a single ice cube. "I want names and locations of everyone you know who works for the council. Start talking or I start cooking."

"I refuse!" Wesley answered, his voice extremely unsteady.

"Your choice. I guess we can start with your left kidney." Xander's grin was hidden beneath his mask as he touched the slowly melting ice cube to Wesley's back, just to the left of his spine. Jerking violently, Wesley began screaming incoherently. "The less you tell me, the more I cook. Wonder how much of you will be left."

A second touch of the ice cube was rewarded with actual speech, at a rate not far from a babble worthy of Willow. Wesley was broken and began spewing names and locations, property names, names of potentials, and best of all names of higher ranking members of the council. Some of the names Xander remembered from the information Giles and Oz had provided, while others were new and included the names of government officials both in the US and UK. Also included amidst the rapid disgorging of knowledge was new information on the overall structure and methods used by the council.

After about twenty minutes of rambling, Wesley was worn out. Xander had turned off the torch partway through the outpouring of data. His energy gone, Wesley hung limp but awake from the manacles suspending him off the floor. Xander walked over to the tape recorder and stopped the recording. Carrying all of the equipment out, he made sure the room was as bare as possible. Nothing was left behind except Wesley, and his clothing.

Xander returned depositing a gallon jug of water and a paper plate with two bologna sandwiches. He set them down next to the back wall, then attached a longer chain to an anchor on the back wall with a single manacle at the other end. Cuffing the new manacle around Wesley's left wrist, he opened the two manacles holding the man off the floor. As he left the room, he spoke once more.

"If your information checks out, you might make it out of this room alive. If it doesn't, then neither do you." As he finished, he closed the door behind him and slid the lock bar to seal the room.

* * *

The next morning was overcast, a rarity in southern California. Already up and eating, Xander was unusually energetic. Cooking up enough for two had not been a problem, so when Oz arrived, they had sat down to a big breakfast if eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, and hash browns.

"Got some info for you, but it may take a bit to transcribe it." Xander slid a cassette tape across the table. "Picked up a council lackey and asked a couple questions. Considering the screaming, you may want to use headphones and turn the volume down at first."

Quirking an eyebrow, Oz looked at the tape and then at Xander.

"It's Wesley. Have him downstairs in the cell." Xander answered the silent query.

"Moon." Oz commented after a moment.

"Yeah, I know it is the first night tonight. Looks like you will have company tonight in there. I have no further use for him, and since he is the one that started all this shit, you deserve some payback." Xander grew more serious. "That fucker took away everyone I cared about. Willow was a sister to me, but you two had something special. And don't worry about making a mess, there is a pressure washer in the garage."

* * *

Laura Macy, Supervisory agent for the Office of Special Projects in Los Angeles sat reading an email from the NCIS Director, Tom Morrow. The data attached to the email was a nightmare. The further she went into the files, the worse it got. Two Marine Gunnery Sergeants were moonlighting as mercenaries. Then again, considering how much they were getting paid to be mercenaries, it was more likely that two mercenaries were moonlight as Gunnery Sergeants. This was going to be a nightmare to investigate, as the files showed some very convincing proof that they had participated in the murder of nine civilians, including four teenagers. Three entire families wiped out, plus the sixteen year old runaway found dead in a hotel.

From the local police records that had been included, Sunnydale PD may as well have been a joke. Obvious homicide dismissed as suicide was beyond laziness. An obvious hit gone wrong was, in the case of the Harris household, dismissed as random gang violence and the case was closed. The Summers house was marked as revenge by a high school rival, with no suspects or evidence supporting that conclusion. The odd file was the Rosenberg family. All three dead, of carbon monoxide poisoning with no violence involved. The only reasons to suspect foul play were the timing and social connections.

Then there were the additional files concerning the twelve men who appeared to be part of a hit team. Bank statements and phone records going back for years, both should have needed a warrant, had been sent as a massive info dump. The phone records had many calls and text messages highlighted, cross-referenced, and explained in detail on later pages. It was similar with the bank statements. Monthly money transfers had been marked for all twelve men, with additional information on even more pages. Someone had done some serious work to uncover this completely outside of normal channels.

After forwarding the email, and closing down her work station, she went to the Ops center. Upon entering, she turned to a young man wearing glasses. "Eric, open the email I just sent you and put it on the big screen. Also, call everyone in. As long as they are not undercover, they are to be here ASAP. If we don't get on top of this, we will be in the middle of a shitstorm."

While Laura Macy was unaware, similar scenes were unfolding at the FBI, BATF, MI6, and Scotland Yard.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Xander spent most of the day watching CNN. He actually found it humorous considering how the so called experts spouted their theories on what had happened. The first suggested it was a explosive pocket of volcanic gasses that was released through cracks in what was supposed to be solid granite. Closer to the mark, but still wrong was one 'expert' who claimed it was a lost W79 nuclear artillery shell, detonated at it's lowest yield of 100 tons. That was the breaking point for Xander, as he began to laugh. When one guy claimed it was aliens, Xander fell out of his chair and continued laughing on the floor. It continued in that fashion for a few minutes until the sound of one of the phones ringing grabbed his attention.

Muting the TV, he picked up the cordless phone. "Yeah."

"Please tell me you did not use an atomic weapon." Giles's voice spoke softly over the handset.

"I am not that stupid. I don't need that much attention. It am pretty sure it was a nice show though. Wish I could have seen it."

"I am glad I did not." Giles replied. "I also was calling to inform you I received a visit from another watcher just prior to lunch. He was inquiring about the status of Wesley, as they were supposed to meet this morning for an update on the current activities of the hellmouth. It seems he brought the new slayer here, a girl named Kennedy DeSilva. Evidently she will be taking over duties here. I would ask that you endeavor to avoid her for the time being."

"Might be a good idea if you disappeared as well." Xander replied. "If the feds come here, this place is going to get too hot to handle. Call Rory, he can set you up in a safe house when you are ready. In case you haven't already, clear out the library and your house of everything that can get you in trouble. Use Oz's van, and Rory can get all of it into the bunker."

"I agree. It is far too risky for the books and weapons to remain here." Giles commented. "I cannot be seen to act any differently or to change my routine. Have Oz clear the library while I box up what is here in my flat."

* * *

NCIS Director Tom Morrow was not happy to be in this conference call in MTAC. Other than himself, the only other person was Special Agent Leon Vance. The rest of the room was empty and the doors were locked. On the screen were other directors and agents across the United States.

"All of the information we have been able to locate on the twelve members of the hit team has checked out when compared to the files we received from that anonymous source." Secretary of Defense William Cohen stated. "The problem is the jurisdictional nightmare this is causing. So we are setting up a joint task force. The FBI is going to run it, and I want no arguments on this. They have the manpower for this. They also have the lead on the foreign nationals we received files on. Army CID is taking the lead on their guys, and NCIS has the two active duty marines. ATF is going to handle the investigation for any weapons that are found."

FBI Director Louis Freech was next to speak. "We have found the remains of a house and nine vehicles at the site of the explosion yesterday evening. NEST already verified no radiation, so it wasn't a nuke. We also have nearly a hundred agents either on site or on the way to assist the ATF with determining what caused the explosion. They have also found... parts of bodies both in the rubble and down slope. Some of the agents are having problems scaring the wildlife away before the evidence disappears."

"Have they determined the source of the explosion yet?" Director Morrow asked.

"No." Came the response from ATF. "We are going to be digging for a couple days at least with heavy equipment if our guess is right. Someone sent us pictures of the location from about a decade ago, so we know what the place should look like, but we think the bomb location is now buried under several hundred tons of rock. Whoever did this planned it perfectly. They used the shape of the cavern to focus the blast only in the direction they wanted. Residue tests on the house have not been conclusive, so we are not sure what explosive was used. We are clearing the house first, to see if there is any corroborating evidence there to link these men, and to recover any bodies that may be buried."

"We know at least three men were not there." Commented the FBI. "According to the files, they are in the morgue in Sunnydale, California. The morgue there confirmed they have three John Does that match the descriptions, and CID is picking up the bodies today. They were found in the remains of a house with the bodies of three civilians. Although the local police reports do not reflect it, from the crime scene photos it is likely they were killed while clearing the house. One of the bodies had the remains of an arrow in his throat. They found a crossbow in the basement next to the nearly dead body of a seventeen year old boy. He died later that day in the hospital from a gunshot wound to the left side of his face in addition to injuries he sustained when the house exploded."

Director Morrow asked. "Has anyone wondered why these civilians? We have files on nine dead civilians, with no discernible ties to any dangerous groups as far as we can tell. The worst we can say about them is the Mr and Mrs Harris were abusive drunks. Mrs Summers seemed to be completely clean, an art dealer with no ties to anyone. Her daughter had some issues in LA a few years ago, but nothing verifiable since, and yes I am ignoring all the police reports from Sunnydale since it seems they are the most incompetent police force in the country. The Rosenbergs were moderately respected psychologists, and their daughter was the target of active recruitment by several tech companies. Then there is the sixteen year old runaway from Boston. She doesn't make sense. Is anyone looking into possible connections between the original victims other than the children were friends in high school?"

"From what we can tell, there were no other connections. Faith Lehane was not enrolled in school, and had run away from home several months earlier. Her mother was found dead of a drug overdose several years ago, and her foster mother was murdered around the same time Faith Lehane disappeared from Boston." Replied the FBI. "She was a suspect for a short time, but they were able to prove one of the local gangs was responsible. The current suspect, a Mr Trick, is on the run currently, and was last reported to be headed to California. Unfortunately, that information is several months old, and we have had no new intel on him since."

"In that case, I want complete investigations done on all nine original victims, from birth to death, including the Rosenbergs. Since we were sent the files as a group, someone must think or know that it was foul play. Whoever sent these files knows a hell of a lot more than we do. We are caught playing catch up here folks, and I don't like it. It won't be long till the media gets wind of this, and I don't want to look like an idiot in front of the entire country." Once finished, the Secretary of Defense closed the connection.

Director Morrow turned to Agent Vance. "What are your thoughts on this?"

Leon thought for a few moments. "Hard to say. It may take months to follow the money trail since most of the financial information we were sent involves foreign banks. Phone records are easier since we can easily get warrants, but we will need to coordinate with the Brits for the calls placed there."

"Not what I was asking. You are an excellent agent, and your investigative skills are top shelf. I need you to start looking at the big picture. What is your impression of the situation itself?" Tom replied.

"Couple of possibilities. Foreign intelligence agency, terrorist groups, or a private NGO. We know it is international, and this could turn into a witch hunt worse than McCarthy. Odd to have SecDef coordinating, so I am guessing the fallout is something the AG's office doesn't want. Depending on who and where... This could be an international relations nightmare. The bomb outside LA already made it impossible to keep quiet, so work fast to clear the trap." Leon answered.

"You missed a couple, but you don't have the clearance to know about them yet. Keep going like this, and you will probably sit in my chair when I retire."

* * *

Giles had not sat idle, even before his conversation with Xander. When he had been told the previous day that he may want to watch the news, he already was aware of what that could mean. The unusual items in his flat were already mostly boxed up. All of his books on demonology and the supernatural were ready to be moved, as well as a majority of his weapons. He was keeping only a saber and rapier, both on a rack over the fireplace, while the remainder of the weapons were going to the bunker Xander had mentioned. Oz had already headed to the school library, to begin loading everything from the shelves and his office. Giles was well aware his life here in Sunnydale was over. The time to seek greener pastures elsewhere had arrived.

It was late afternoon when he heard a knock at his door. As he was not expecting visitors, he ignored it at first until he heard it occur again and again. Upon opening the front door, he saw two men in suits with federal badges on their jackets.

"May I help you gentlemen?"

The suit on the left answered. "Dr Rupert Giles? I am Agent Robertson with the FBI, and my associate is Agent James. Do you have a few moments to answer a few questions?"

"I do. Would either if you like tea or coffee?" Giles responded as he stepped back from the door. "I apologize for the mess, but I am just packing up some books and things I won't be needing for a while."

"Coffee for both of us, if it isn't too much trouble." Agent James said as both agents entered. "Are you moving?"

"Within the next month I believe. After the events just over a week ago, it is difficult for me to be here in Sunnydale. Too much death, including three of my students. I am assuming that is the reason for your visit. Please do have a seat, and I will bring your coffee in a moment." Giles stated as he indicated toward the living room. Then he went to the kitchen to heat up the water for tea and coffee.

A few minutes later, he returned to see the Agents looking in one of the boxes next to the bookshelf. "Your coffee, gentlemen." He said as he set the tray down on the table near the sofa. "I see you have an interest in the books. I would ask that you not touch them without gloves, as many are rare and old. The oils from human skin can damage the pages quite badly."

"I don't recognize any of the languages of any of the books I can see. What languages are they?" Agent Robertson asked.

"That box in front of you is Cuneiform and Akkadian. The box next to it is mostly Ancient Sumerian. I have books in almost a hundred languages no longer spoken or written by anyone in the world. These books are the culmination of my entire career, and they hold value in both of my chosen fields of study. I received two doctorates from Oxford, one in ancient languages, and the other in mythology and folklore. I have made it my life's work to compare how cultures have adopted older myths and made them their own."

Agent James chuckled. "As interesting as that is, you are right. That is not why we are here. The FBI received files indicating the deaths of three students of yours, in addition to their families, were killed recently. Unfortunately, the local police are useless..."

"Useless would be an improvement. Profoundly corrupt would be more accurate." Giles interjected. "I am sure they were murdered."

"That is what we believe. We are attempting to figure out why they were targeted and how Faith Lehane fits in."

"As far as I know, all three were very good friends, for the last several years. Faith was a more recent addition. She was the foster child of an old friend of mine from college. Diana Dormer lived in Boston until she was killed several months ago. We kept in touch via letters and the telephone over the years. I was unaware she had died until Faith showed up here in Sunnydale. She was rather headstrong, and rather wild as well. When Faith arrived here, I could have reported her to Childrens services, however, they would only refer it to the local officials who are just as inept as the police department." Giles explained. "She refused to say where she was staying, or how she could afford it. I did what I could to help her, providing her with food and money for clothes. She also came to the school library from time to time. She was doing some studying in order to take the equivalency exam. Unfortunately, we never made it that far."

"Do you know why they were targeted?" Agent James repeated.

"Sorry, no. They stayed out of trouble most of the time. To the best of my knowledge, they were either in the library, at one of their houses, or at the local teen club called The Bronze."

Agent Robertson inquired. "Why did you come to the US three years ago? You were working at the British Museum at the time."

"When I first was employed at the museum, it was a dream come true. Being paid to do research what I loved. As time passed, I ended up as the Head Curator. After a particularly long day of meetings and paperwork I realized I was no longer what I wanted to be. I was forced to spend all my waking hours as an administrator, and felt lost. I needed a change, and to get back into what I enjoyed doing. I came here for the chance to see American small town culture, and took employment with the school to cover the expenses. It gave me plenty of time to return to my work. I am not sure if you are aware, but a high school library is one of the least used rooms in any school. The quiet was relaxing. That was where I met Buffy Summers, Willow Rosenberg, and Alexander Harris. They were nearly inseparable from the day Buffy arrived in Sunnydale. Once they began to spend time in the library, I was able to interest them in languages and folklore. It eventually became easier to order pizza for delivery as they stayed after school so often. It became a somewhat irregular archeology club of sorts. It was a fair trade, I taught them history and language, while they helped me with translations and legends."

Agent Jones asked. "You said you were planning on leaving Sunnydale? Could you elaborate a bit more as to why?"

"I can see your reasons for asking. Too much pain. Two years ago I began dating Jenny Calender, the computer science teacher at the school. Six months later, while I was working late on reports for the school principal, someone broke into my flat while she was making us dinner. I arrived to find her body on the floor. Between the deaths at the school, both students and faculty, I was already contemplating moving to either Seattle or Denver. The senseless deaths of three children who I began to think of as my own was the final blow. I cannot stay here. I have no desire to remain in a town with this much emotional trauma." Giles said as he sipped his tea. "Since I know you are going to ask, I have no desire to leave the United States. I began the process of becoming a US citizen a year ago, and was scheduled to take my oath Monday last week in San Francisco. Unfortunately, due to recent events, I had to reschedule so that I could attend a large number of funerals. I will be heading there tomorrow morning and back before sundown."

Agent Robertson stood. "We appreciate you taking the time to answer our questions. I know some of the questions were a bit aggressive, but we did have to ask them. I am also sorry for the loss of your students and your love. I'll leave you my card in case you have any further information you think may help. I would ask that if you do move, please let me know how to contact you in case we have any further questions."

"You are most welcome. As for the questions, I do understand. It will likely be a week or two before I relocate, so I will call you prior to give you the new contact information." Giles responded as he opened the front door. "I wish you luck in your investigation, and I hope you are able to catch the ones responsible."

* * *

Forty five minutes later, the two agents were well on their way back to the LA office. Neither had spoken since they departed the apartment of Dr Giles.

Agent James was the first to break the silence. "So what do you think?"

"I don't think he told us everything, but he did't lie either. That town gives me the creeps, and I think he is past his breaking point with everything we have been able to find out about that town."

Agent James nodded. "You have a point. Did you notice as we started heading back that the streets were nearly empty? Wasn't even dark yet and people were already closing up shops."

Agent Robertson replied. "I saw it too. I also remember the reports of what happened in the school. Did you see the police report about the previous school principal? Eaten by wild dogs... in broad daylight... in his locked office... during a school day. I am glad we didn't have to stay in that town overnight."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Not long after dawn the next morning, Xander was cooking breakfast. He had spent a large part of the previous night finalizing the first stage of his plan for the Watcher's Council. Since the council was so large, and widespread, it would not be possible for him to completely wipe it out on his own. Since federal agencies were already involved, he would use the distraction to keep the council deaf, dumb, and blind. The elimination of the council would have to be taken one piece at a time.

The first piece was North America. So far the information gathered had located watchers, potentials, mercenaries, and 'spies'. The watchers were almost always operating either alone or with a single potential, so they would be easy to deal with. The mercenaries would be more difficult, as they were well trained and equipped. Xander would need to take them by surprise with overwhelming firepower. The spies were the easiest to handle. Xander was going to let the Feds take them down one by one over the next few months.

The biggest issue was the potentials, in that he did not want to be responsible for the injury or death of even a single one. There were several options, considering most of them were either victims of kidnapping or orphans. Almost all of them were listed in the missing persons database kept by the FBI. Some of them had been missing since their families were killed, so would likely be witnesses or at least proof of the council's tactics. So far the only exception to this was the current Slayer Kennedy and her Watcher, as her parents were still alive and she had lived and been trained at home with her parents tentative approval. The parents had been too influential and rich for Kennedy to be abducted and brainwashed.

The only problem with beginning Stage Alpha, as Xander had named it, was what to do about Sunnydale before he began. Since the town was lousy with demons of all kinds, Xander wanted to clear out as many of the hostile demons as possible before he focused on the council. The most likely to work was an old military tactic, shock and awe. At least he had what he needed in the basement of the safe house.

His thoughts were interrupted by Oz exiting the basement staircase. He seemed more relaxed than normal, which Xander had thought to be near impossible. Wearing the spare clothes Xander had left out for him earlier in the morning, Oz made his way to the kitchen table after retrieving a cup of coffee.

"Hey Oz. Made breakfast if you are hungry. I wasn't sure if the snack last night would carry over." Xander spoke.

"Nah. Still full."

"Well, it is in the fridge if you want it later. I am going to head downstairs and hose out the room."

Oz shook his head. "Done"

"Oh cool. Thanks. In that case, I am going to prep for this afternoon. Are you going to be sleeping today? Or do you have plans?" Xander asked.

"Just hacking"

"Perfect. I am bringing a letter to Giles at lunch. Can you do everything on this list by say... noon?" Xander handed Oz a sheet of paper.

As Oz read the list, one corner of his mouth twitched then raised in a half smile. The last item on the list made both his eyebrows raise. Looking back to Xander, he nodded.

"Awesome. Hit the accounts first, and once that is done, then send the emails with attached files to whoever you need to. I have to get some gear ready and make a couple stops before I hit Willie's. At noon, we can take use your van we can finish all the stops then hit Willie's by six. Tonight I make a statement ad give the demons here an ultimatum. To quote one of my favorite movies, I am going to make them an offer they can't refuse." Xander smirked as he finished, then headed to the basement.

* * *

Quentin Travers was enjoying a rather expensive cigar and sherry in his study at home when his phone rang. Barely any thought had been given to the loss of the wetworks team from the Los Angeles region, other than what would be needed to quash the investigation. So far none of the council's efforts were having any progress in closing the investigation at the moment. The death's of the wetworks team had been too visible, and too many law enforcement agencies were now involved. Several of the council's employees were embedded in positions of influence in the United States, however, they were not yet high enough to have any real effect on the current issue. On the other hand, the removal of the two Slayers, both barbaric Americans and not under council control, had been a positive note on his record as Head of the Senior Council. The loss of twelve men was a small price to pay to get a Slayer trained by the council and under it's control. The new Slayer, Kennedy DeSilva, while not traditionally trained, was still a far better option than the Summer's brat and that whore Faith Lehane.

The continuing ring of the phone regained his attention, which meant it was likely important. Hopefully it was not bad news now that the council was back in control of the Slayer. Picking up the handset, he answered. "Travers"

"Mr Travers." A woman's voice replied. "This is Beatrice from Accounting. We have a problem. We were in the process of setting up the tomorrow's payments for our North American division, and all of the accounts have been emptied within the last few hours."

"WHAT?!" Travers shouted. "How could your department be this incompetent?"

"Sir. No one in the department authorized the money transfers that drained the accounts. All of the authorizations were received from outside the country. The proper codes were given before the transactions were processed, but as of now, the accounts used for all North American operations have a zero balance. The total amount lost is just over three hundred fourteen million pounds."

"Who authorized the transfers? Who's codes were used? And where did all the money go?" Travers growled angrily.

"Many of the transfers used the codes for the operations manager for North America. As for where the money was sent, we have only been able to confirm a few of the transfers. It seems several charities were the recipients of almost a third of the total amount."

"Charities?" Quentin was now a bit confused.

"Yes, sir. Several support and education charities for orphans, and also the American Center for Missing and Exploited Children. We are stil attempting to locate the rest of the transfers, however, we will not be able to recover the money through legal channels. Since they were provided the correct codes, the various banks have refused to reverse the transfers to reclaim the funds. Various national and international laws are blocking the recovery and the bank representatives are very concerned about large amounts of negative publicity if they were to take the funds back from charities of this type. It would be a public relations nightmare as well as a political one."

"Damn! I want to know who was responsible for the transfers. I had better have a list of names on my desk by morning, or it will be your head on my desk instead." Slamming the phone down, and disconnecting the call, Quentin's mood was now firmly reversed from how he had felt earlier that morning. The day had been going so well. Glancing back over to the sherry and still burning cigar, he sighed. "It could have been worse."

* * *

Giles had just finished lunch in his office at the high school, on his last day of employment, when Xander entered through the back entrance normally used by Angel. As he approached Giles, he pulled out a small electronic device and switched it on. Giles was unaware of his approach until Xander entered the office.

"Xander, is something wrong? I thought you were keeping a low profile." Giles stated.

"I am. No one saw me, but I need you to deliver a message. As soon as you do, burn it to ash. And this is for you." Xander said as he handed over the electronic device. "I call it a bug zapper. It transmits static so no electronic bugs can overhear you. Switch turns it on and off. Range is about fifty feet. Oh, don't use it for more than three minutes at a time. Gotta run. I have some things to take care of before I get started on what is in the letter."

As Xander turned to leave, Giles asked. "What is it you are going to do?"

"Read the letter. I will explain later."

As quickly as he had arrived, he vanished, leaving Giles with a plain white envelope. Opening the letter, he withdrew the single piece of paper. After reading it four times, he set the letter down.

"Dear Lord! I hope you know what you are doing, Xander."

* * *

It was later than Xander had estimated by the time he and Oz arrived a block from Willie's. Checking his equipment, Xander verified everything he needed was in place. Decked out in his full combat gear, Xander hoped it would help with putting fear into the demons inside the bar. Quickly, he got out of the van, parked just around the corner from the front entrance, and walked to the outside door of the bar.

Due to a significant percentage of the bar's patrons having an adverse reaction to sunlight, as well as most of the rest not looking remotely human, the bar had a non-standard entrance. The outside door opened to a stairwell that took a ninety degree turn before ending at a second set of doors that opened into the bar itself. From his previous visits with Buffy, he remembered the bouncer was on the right side, and was a demon that could almost pass for human. While he could not remember the species, he did know it was stronger than human, but no faster, and not much more durable than he was.

Once inside the stairwell, he pulled down his mask, and took one of the flash bang grenades from a pouch and held it in his right hand. In his left hand he drew a double barreled shotgun with cut down barrels. Knowing there were most likely at least a few vampires sitting at the usual table to his left, he had loaded dragons-breath shells into it. On his right thigh was a Springfield XD-45, an overpowered .45acp pistol with phenomenal stopping power. In the loaded magazine were special rounds he had made in the basement of the safe house. Each bullet in the pistol was a steel hollow point with a thin copper jacket, with the hollow nose filled with pressed wood shavings.

Upon reaching the doors from the stairwell to the main room of the bar, Xander held down the spoon on the grenade and used the thumb on his other hand to pull the pin. Taking a breath to settle his nerves, he then kicked the door open while tossing the grenade through the doorway. Ducking to the side, his right hand drew the pistol from it's holster. A bright flash accompanied an ear shattering boom, then Xander rushed in a second later.

Immediately upon entering, he raised the shotgun toward the table the vampires had claimed. As he pulled the trigger on the shotgun, he jerked his head away from what knew to be a brilliant light. At the same time, his right hand raised the pistol taking aim at the rightmost demon he knew to be hostile, the bouncer. Near simultaneous blasts erupted, adding to the confusion the grenade had started. Xander fired off the second barrel from the shotgun barely a second after the first had been fired. The burning magnesium flooded the left side of the bar with intense heat and blinding illumination, igniting all of the vampires at the table, as well as causing nearby demons to begin screaming as they received painful burns to exposed skin.

While the left side of the room was in short lived flames, the right side saw four of their number drop in less than three seconds, all of which were types known to be hostile to humans. The remains of the bouncer's brain, as well as a decent amount of blood, was splattered over most of the remaining demons who had been behind him. Every demon in the bar had frozen in place, as well as the bartender. Willie's face had taken on an extremely pale complexion, almost enough for one to think he was also a vampire.

Dropping the shotgun from his left hand, he then drew a second pistol that matched the one in his right. The falling shotgun, attached to a cord, never hit the floor and dangled from the tether just inside the trench coat Xander was wearing. Covering the entire bar with the two handguns, Xander waited patiently as the demons regained their sight and hearing.

"Listen up! Its time you fuckers paid attention. There are a couple of new rules in Sunnydale. The Slayer doesn't call the shots anymore, I DO!" Xander began.

"Says who?" Interrupted a demon to Xander's left.

As the demon finished speaking, a shot rang out, evidenced by a single hole in the demon's head, just above the bridge of what passed for a nose. Silence filled the bar, and even the demons burned by the magnesium were quiet. All eyes were on the still standing demon with a hole in it's head. Nearly ten seconds passed before the demon slowly fell backwards to crash into a table, upending it.

Xander broke the silence with a quiet query. "Any other stupid questions?"

No one spoke as Xander laid down the new law in town.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

It was rather early in London when the thirteen leaders of the Watcher's Council arrived at the headquarters building. Each of them had power either through titles conferred or inherited. They also possessed significant wealth both personal as well as controlled through the council. Over a thousand years of wealth building on top of the recovery of the wealth of it's predecessor gave the Watcher's Council the financial weight of a medium sized industrial country. None of these men were known in public circles, and few were known outside the Council itself.

It was only a few minutes later when the thirteen men gathered in an opulent meeting room on the third floor. Each sat surrounding a large round table, supposedly the one used by King Arthur many centuries in the past. Twelve chairs were identical for the majority of the men. In the last chair, an ancient throne over a millenia in age, sat Quentin Travers. None of the men spoke as Travers set a file down on the table. As Quentin opened the file to read the highlights, the silence continued, growing heavy over these powerful men. The suspense broke as Quentin spoke.

"Yesterday someone drained all of the North American operational accounts and deposited the money into various charities. Does someone want to tell me how we lost over three hundred million pounds since none of the authorized persons on any of the accounts participated? Normally I would have Roger's head on a pike, however, at the time the transfers were authorized, he was in a rather public meeting with an MP. His was the only name on all of the accessed accounts, yet he was not responsible as far as we know."

All eyes turned to Roger Windham-Price. His appearance was of one who had been awake for days. Unkempt hair, rumpled suit, and dark circles under the eyes gave evidence of a troubled night. "I was unaware of the accounts being accessed until after my meeting with the MP yesterday. I immediately went home to look into the issue myself. Upon checking my email for any clues as to how it happened, I noticed one I thought to be from my son, Wesley. As it was marked 'Urgent', I opened it and a video appeared on the screen. Someone locked my son in a room with a werewolf, and recorded it for the two hours it took my son to die. My wife heard my shouting and came to see why I was upset. She saw our son being eaten alive by that beast. It was too much for her heart to take, and she collapsed. She died last night on the way to the hospital." As he finished speaking, something inside him broke. Silent weeping was witnessed by all at the table. "He was my only child. And now I have no family left."

Sir Edmund Giles stood to face the distraught Roger Windham-Price. "You have our condolences, Roger. There is nothing we can say or do that can ease the loss you feel, nor can we return to you that which is gone. If there is anything within my power that you wish, consider it done." Turning back to address the entire table, he continued "I was not aware of what happened to the accounts or the demise of Roger's son; however, I received a message last night from my son, Rupert. To be more accurate, he called me to relay a message. He said a letter was delivered by courier with instructions to pass it on to the Watcher's Council. I had the audio recording transcribed this morning before leaving my house. In brief, the letter blames the Council for the deaths of nine people, though from the content of the letter it is likely one may still be alive, one Alexander Harris. The nine people listed are the two American slayers, two of their companions, and their families. The last part of the letter was a probably threat against the Council itself. Here are copies of the letter in case I may have missed something." As he finished speaking, he pulled out a file folder from his briefcase and set it on the table in front of him.

"Are you sure as to the identity of the person who has effectively declared war on the Watcher's Council?" Another voice spoke.

"As sure as I can be. I had one of our contacts look into it. The doctor that declared the younger Harris dead has a gambling problem, and the night Alexander Harris was declared dead, he paid off a significant portion of those debts. I believe Alexander Harris is alive, and is a valid threat to the council." Sir Giles concluded as he sat.

Quentin was quick to ask." How many teams do we have in the United States?"

For the first time since the opening of the meeting, Sir Henry Smythe spoke. "With the loss of the team in Los Angeles, we have eight teams currently operational in North America, six in the colonies. The Mexico City and Baja teams are currently involved in active operations against several drug cartels that actively use demons for raids. Those two are unavailable for the near future. The remaining teams are located in Seattle, Salt Lake City, Dallas, Chicago, Pensacola, and New York City. Of those teams, only the Chicago and Salt Lake City teams are capable of travel outside the local area. The other four American teams are engaged in non-critical but ongoing operations against demon nests in their areas."

"Hrm... How fast can you get the Chicago team to Sunnydale? If this Harris brat is willing to threaten us, and has the means to cause problems, we may need to remove him as the original team should have done." Quentin inquired.

"Less than thirty-six hours, including the necessary equipment. Since they will not need to go though customs or travel commercial. They have their own aircraft and would be considered a private flight. All that would be needed would be ground transpiration." Smythe answered.

"Get them moving. I want this problem ended before the weekend." Quentin ordered.

* * *

Agent Fornell sat staring at his computer in the tiny office in the basement of the Hoover Building, FBI headquarters. While most of the task-force assembled was handling the investigation into the now dead wet-works team and the money trail they had left behind, Tobias Fornell had been assigned the deaths of the nine civilians in Sunnydale. Unfortunatly, he was alone in that task. As other members of the FBI scrambled getting warrants, subpeonas, and a virtual forest of paperwork, he was stuck looking into shoddy police work.

To take a break from the monotony of reading lies on the police reports, he began running background checks on the police officers who filled out the original paperwork. The results of the first background check came back and Fornell felt his day getting worse. According to both Federal and State databases, the police officer did not exist. As each background check returned, his workload increased as some were non-existent. Two of the checks showed that the officers had been cops at some point, but had lost their shields after convictions for criminal activity. After the eighth check, he went online and downloaded the complete employment records of the Sunnydale Police Department. This included tax records, and photos.

Tobias began scrolling through the photos of the SPD officers, and halfway down he froze. Zooming in on the photo, he realized he recognized the face on his screen. Opening the FBI database, he searched for an old case from the Chicago area. Once located, he sorted through the case file until he found the photo he was looking for. Resizing the two photos, he compared the features on each face. Several scars matched up completely, with two new ones on the more recent photo.

Reaching for the phone on his desk, he began dialing the number for his supervisor on the task force. Once answered he spoke. "This is Agent Fornell, I need a meeting with SAC Hendricks as soon as possible."

"..."

"Tell him we have a big problem in Sunnydale, California."

* * *

Xander was cleaning a rather large sniper rifle in the living room of the safe house while watching CNN on the TV. With most of his attention on the Barrett .50 cal monstrosity in front of him, he did occasionally pick up on various stories as they were commented on by the talking heads in the news room. He was halfway through cleaning the hardware when Oz interrupted him.

"FBI is busy."

Xander looked up. "Who are they checking out? Have they started looking into us or Giles?"

"Nah. Cops."

"Cops? You mean Sunnydale's Not-So-Finest? Awesome! I am not sure what they are looking for besides incompetence." Xander replied.

"Fake cops." Oz said before showing a slight smile.

"This I have to see. Show me what you found." Xander set the weapon pieces on the coffee table and stood to follow Oz.

They entered the computer room, which Oz had set up for his use, to show background checks being run on several members of local police force. Xander watched as Oz returned to his chair and began typing. He brought up the names and photos of the eight cops that had been the subject of the background checks.

"Interesting" murmured Oz.

"What's the what?" Xander inquired.

Oz pointed to the screen, where Detective Paul Stein's photo was on one side, and an older photo of younger version was on the other. Xander peered closely at the older photo, where the name on the bottom right was not Stein. After Xander had read the name, Oz opened the file attached to the photo. It was a wanted poster for one Peter Mackenzie, convicted of three counts of murder and escaped from federal custody five years earlier.

"Oh boy. This isn't good. Did no one check this guy out before hiring him?"

"Doubtful." Oz replied.

"Can you do me a huge favor? Run backgrounds on all of the cops, starting with Chief Monroe. Actually, how long would it take you to run checks on every city employee from meter maid up to Mayor Wilkins?" Xander asked.

Oz cocked his head slightly as he thought. "Two weeks. Maybe three."

"Damn. I was hoping to be moving on the council before then."

Oz thought a moment more. Holding up one finger, the universal signal to wait a moment, Oz began working. Opening an old chat program, IRC, he searched through the list of chat rooms currently open. Locating the one he wanted, he typed the command to enter the room as well as the room's password. Xander watched as Oz began typing.

LunarVacation Any1 free to help with project?

LordNikon What ya need, man?

CerealKiller Why not, I am bored out of my skull!

AcidBurn As long as I get to have fun.

LunarVacation Problem with LE types. Looks like locals are not who they say. One is wanted by FBI, but has fake ID as legit cop.

AcidBurn Have a list?

LunarVacation List is public info. Sunnydale PD and city employees.

LordNikon They have it public? Are they brain dead?

CerealKiller It's THE MAN, what did you expect.

AcidBurn Time frame?

LunarVacation 48 hours

LordNikon We got this. You remember the file drop from last year?

LunarVacation Easy.

AcidBurn Will get busy now. Crash will join in. Prolly Razor and Blade. Caltech just got a new Cray and I have been looking for a reason to play with it. =)

LunarVacation Thanks. Did you guys get the pics I sent of RosePetal's memorial?

CerealKiller Is this related?

LunarVacation In a way. No investigation, ruled accidental. 9 total dead, no arrests. Witness statements were round filed.

LordNikon Fuck man. Count us in all the way.

LunarVacation Cool. I'm out.

* * *

Shortly after noon, a sixty year old plane took off from an airport outside Chicago, it's destination being Sunnydale Regional Airport. On board were a dozen men, and several dozen duffle bags. With a top speed of around two hundred miles per hour, and a refueling stop in Cheyenne, it would take nearly sixteen hours to reach it's destination. Taking advantage of the aftermarket soundproofing that had been added to the plane, the commander of the team began briefing most of his men.

"We have a target. The problem is the identity of the target is unconfirmed. From what information we received from upstairs, our sister team in LA did a hit two weeks ago, four primary targets, with five collateral damage. They lost three of their team when going after one of the targets. The intel suggests that the fourth target may be alive. While not confirmed, it is possible that target is the same person who eliminated the remainder of the LA team in their safe house."

"What info do we have on the target?" Said one of the men.

"Target is one Alexander L Harris. 18 years old, and from reports he has survived actively fighting in Sunnydale for several years with at least one Slayer. The same rogue Slayer the LA team successfully terminated."

Another voice spoke up. "Hang on a sec. You are telling me one kid, still in school, took out the entire LA team?"

"That is what the intel suggests. Someone sent a fairly direct threat to the Brits upstairs, and they believe that he is not dead. According to the reports, he faked his death after being injured in the explosion that killed three members of the LA team when they went after him. Medical reports show that he lost his left eye from either shrapnel or a bullet, but since no autopsy was performed, it is not for sure." The commander replied.

"So what's the game plan?" Came the next question.

"We break into three teams. One driver and three shooters. We need to gather intel, so one team needs to talk to the current Watcher, while another talks to the rogue Slayer's Watcher. Third team roams. Once we gather enough intel to determine an ID and location on the threat, we hit hard and fast. The guys upstairs may be sure it is this Harris kid, but we will confirm it before initiating any action. Kid may be a decoy, so I want to verify before the hit. Now get some sleep. We hit the ground running the moment we land in Sunnydale. I want to be gone before too long."

Murmurs of assent were heard once the commander finished speaking. Within a few minutes most of the men were dozing.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Mayor Wilkins was thinking. A couple nights had passed since he had received word from several demons, as well as a weasel of a bartender, about a new demon hunter that had arrived in town. Interestingly enough, this hunter had not killed every demon in sight, but rather gave an ultimatum that the demons clean their act up themselves. Oh there were a few pesky rules mentioned about not harming humans, but Wilkins ignored the small issues. The more important issues involved Vampires being exterminated on sight, and the Slayer being off limits with no mention made about the watcher. The reward given was that the hunter would not exterminate all demons in Sunnydale. Chuckling to himself, Wilkins found humor in the arrogance the new hunter had, thinking one man could kill that many demons before being overwhelmed. Well, he thought, everyone has delusions of grandeur so let him have his moment before watching it be crushed into oblivion. Thinking through a few ideas, he decided a little demonstration was in order to show this upstart that the demons really ruled Sunnydale. Reaching to his desk, he picked up the phone to place a call to one of his more ruthless minions.

* * *

In the day since Oz had arranged for the investigation of the Sunnydale city government, Xander had not been idle. Between setting up small surprises under manholes for demons to trigger, he had also cleared out half a dozen vamp nests above ground. Daytime raids were safer, overall, but not without danger. Being able to fall back int sunlight was countered by increased non-combatant traffic and a significant police presence. As inept as they were, SPD would likely arrest anyone walking down the street in Xander's tactical gear with numerous illegal weapons. This meant approaching from alleyways, silencers on firearms, and no loud explosives. Lucky for Xander, cemeteries were un-populated, most of the time. Seventeen vampires in six nests was a pretty good amount of work for one day. From what he could tell no one had seen him, and no one should be following him.

Since the death of his friends, and the attack on his old home, Xander had worked to become much more observant. He now paid attention to details normally ignored by most of the population of the world. Between checking license plates, identifying car color and types, and noticing distinct facial features he was now concerned that he had been noticed. Though several cars separated his beautiful ride from the black SUV behind him, he knew the occupants of the tail were focused on him. Keeping his head facing forward, Xander carefully pulled out his cellphone, keeping it low, and dialed Oz. As soon as it started ringing, he turned on the speakerphone.

"Yeah?" was the greeting Oz gave as the call connected.

"Oz, I think I am being followed. Black SUV, unknown occupants but at least two. License plate Romeo Kilo Six Four One One Alpha. Can you check it and see who it belongs to?"

"Yeah." was followed by the sound of typing in the background noise. As Xander waited, he kept to his cruising through town, occasionally making turns and even stopping in one drive thru for food before returning to his meandering.

"Rental. Sunnydale Airport. Three of them delivered to Hanger Fourteen for private use. Flight came from Chicago with 12 on board." Oz's voice finally answered.

"Twelve? I am guessing a team."

"Probably."

"Can you find the other two SUVs? I know they have some traffic cams installed on the main roads for police use." Xander asked.

"Looking." Another wait as Oz worked his electronic magic.

"One at hotel near the edge of town. Last one was near Giles's apartment."

"Shit. Which way were the heading? And how long ago?" Xander cringed.

"Two hours ago, and... wait..." Oz trailed off. Xander heard a phone ringing on the other end. After about thirty seconds of indistinct voices, Oz returned to the call. "Giles called. Council team. Rough questioning."

"Damn. Call Rory and Giles, set up Code Costner, target Giles, location Four. Make it one hour. I want him gone before I take these guys down. Everything he thought was important has already been moved to a safe location, so time for him to join his stuff. As soon as Giles has left his place, call me back. I don't want to lose these guys and have them come after Giles."

* * *

Two hours later, with Giles safely out of town courtesy of Uncle Rory, Xander was gearing up. Oz had done more than expected, and provided floor plans for the hotel, as well as determining which rooms were being used by the new hit team. Between Xander and Oz, a plan had been worked out to cover for the deaths of the previous team down in Los Angeles. As soon as Xander had arrived at the safe house, Oz had taken his van to the airport to plant a couple of Xander's propane toys inside the plane itself.

Thinking on how to hit the team, Xander thought about the tactics usually used by twelve man groups. Since the team had three SUVs, it would mean three squads of four men each. Virtually identical to the way the Los Angeles team had operated when it had been in Sunnydale. Depending on how Xander played this out, he could end up the victor or he could be very dead. In this mission, he needed to be quiet, fast, and make no mistakes.

Double checking his gear, he verified the positions on his weapons, ammo, and other supplies. Two Springfield XD .45 pistols with silencers were in tactical holsters on his thighs, with four spare magazines per weapon, and each mag had fifteen Federal copper jacketed holopoints with added mercury tips. Two Ka-bar survival knives with ten inch blades were attached to his belt. Six throwing knives were in their sheaths near the small of his back. The last weapon was the heavy hitter and possible door opener. An Armalite AR-10 rifle with six spare 30 round magazines. Under the barrel, a mounted M-203 40mm grenade launcher had been added just in case. Checking the spare mags and four grenades for the launcher, he made sure they were not going to fall loose. Once his equipment checks were complete, he put on his coat, grabbed his mask and rifle, and headed to the garage behind the safe house.

As he pulled out of the driveway, he inserted a CD into the stereo. Normally he listened to music to calm his mood, or take his mind off what was bothering him. This time was different. As the heavy metal poured out of the speakers, Xander's mood was not calming but rather anger was growing. His friends were dead because of the council. So he killed that team and told them to fuck off. Now they had sent a new team to take him out, and from what Giles had said earlier, they had been quite vigorous in their interrogation of him. The council just would not leave innocent people alone. They would not leave the good guys alone either. It was time to make another impression. This time there would be no doubts as to what happened to the team. Xander would leave no doubts.

Near fifteen minutes later, Xander backed into an alley across the street and a block down the hotel. Per Oz's information, this alley was in a blind spot for the street cameras, and was perfect for someone keeping an eye on the hotel. He also wanted his car facing the street since he would likely need a fast getaway. It was about twenty minutes after sunset, and the light of dusk was enough for the nightlife to be moving in the open. Xander spared demons any thought as he focused on his targets. The council team were occupying six rooms on the first floor, Since the rooms were all next to each other for security purposes, it also made it easy to keep them from surrounding him.

As the opening notes for the fourth song on the album in the stereo started playing, Xander turned off the car. In his head, the music continued and he began to silently mouth the words as he walked over to the big metal dumpster at the entrance of the alley.

"Where do I take this pain of mine" He looked out over the dumpster at the six hotel rooms.

"I run but it stays right by my side" Used the top of the dumpster as a brace for the rifle.

Breaking the rhythm of the song, Xander's face reflected his anger, rage, and hate for the council. "Fuck quiet!" And he pulled the trigger on the M-203.

"So tear me open, pour me out" He sang as the 40mm explosive round impacted the furthest black SUV parked in front of the rooms.

"There's things inside that scream and shout" An explosion shattered the windows for over a hundred feet in every direction as the SUV flipped over and sent shrapnel speeding away.

"And the pain still hates me" The barrel of the rifle swept over to the nearest of the six rooms.

"So hold me until it sleeps." Bullets began to race out of the barrel as they tracked waist high cross the first room.

"Just like the curse, just like the stray" The front door and walls of the second room began receiving holes as more bullets came.

"You feed it once and now it stays" An empty magazine forced Xander to reload.

"Now it stays" Inserting a new mag, he aimed at the third room.

"So tear me open but beware" Xander squeezed the trigger once more, spraying more military grade ammo at his enemies.

"There's things inside without a care" The Door to the fourth room opened as Xander's aim crossed it.

"And the dirt still stains me" The man who opened the door fell back with two bleeding wounds in his abdomen.

"So wash me until I'm clean" The second magazine went dry as his aim neared the fifth room.

"It grips you, so hold me" Ducking behind the dumpster, he began reloading a new mag.

"It stains you, so hold me" Locking the new mag in place, he reached for a new grenade for the launcher.

"It hates you, so hold me" Opening the M-203, he ejected the expended casing.

"It holds you, so hold me" He inserted the new shell, this time an fragmentation grenade.

"Until it sleeps" He stood and leveled the rifle at the last two rooms.

"So tell me why you've chosen me" Copper jacketed rounds with a steel core scythed across the fifth room.

"Don't want your grip" Xander held fire as the sixth room came into his sights.

"Don't want your greed" The grenade leapt from the launcher.

"Don't want it " From inside the sixth room, a flash erupted accompanied by screams.

"I'll tear me open, make you gone" Xander saw the doors to the first two rooms swing open.

"No more can you hurt anyone" Adjusting the aim, he poured more of his anger into the open doorways.

"And the fear still shakes me" An empty mag drops.

"So hold me until it sleeps" A new mag is slammed home.

"It grips you, so hold me" Blood sprays from two men rushing out of the second room.

"It stains you, so hold me" Another man falls as he jumps out the missing window.

"It hates you, so hold me" Return fire from inside two rooms causes him to duck.

"It holds you, holds you, holds you" The grenade launcher is reloaded.

"Until it sleeps" Standing up, he fires the grenade.

"I don't want it" Magazine runs empty.

"So tear me open but beware" Xander ejects the old mag

"There's things inside without a care" As incoming bullets ricochet, he calmly locks the new mag in place.

"And the dirt still stains me" He jerks as a bullet hits the left side of his tactical vest.

"So wash me... till clean" He sees four of the council approaching.

"I'll tear me open, make you gone" Stepping into the open, he brings the rifle to his shoulder and opens fire.

"No longer will you hurt anyone" Taking several pistol bullets to his gear, he speeds toward the council team, spraying pain.

"And the hate still shapes me" More impacts, pain in his left bicep, two targets left.

"So hold me until it sleeps" Mag empty, he drops the rifle and pulls out both Ka-bars.

"Until it sleeps " Xander charges the last two men, only ten feet away.

* * *

***** A/N: "Until it Sleeps" by Metallica, album 'Load', they own it, not me.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"Mr Travers, Roger Windham-Price is on line two for you." A woman's voice said from the phone on his desk.

"Thank you." Picking up the handset, Quentin answered the call. "How are you doing this morning Roger?"

"I would have been better had I not been awakened in the middle of the night. I haven't been able to sleep due to the phone calls and emails I have had to send and read. The Chicago team is gone. Ten dead with one in ICU and two still in surgery."

"What the bloody hell happened?" Quentin shouted. "They were supposed to identify and take out one man, at least that was what they said at their last check in."

"We do not have much information yet. Their last report included information gained through questioning Rupert Giles. While it did not help in confirming the identity of the target, it did offer some information as to where the person had been seen. They were going to continue gathering intelligence tomorrow then track down whoever has been causing us problems." Roger stated.

"Damn. How much of a security risk are the two survivors?"

"One is minimal, he was new to the group and was not aware of his true employers. He only knew his team leader and that he was paid. This was his second mission and the first one that actually had a valid target. The other is the team leader, he will have to be silenced if he makes it out of surgery. His prospects for that are low, they are giving him less than a ten percent chance of lasting more than twenty four hours."

Quentin thought a moment. "Make the arrangements anyway."

* * *

Waking up was once again pain. Xander thought he had hurt last night when he laid down in his bed in the safe house. It had been a tough fight, considering he took on two well trained men in close combat, after being shot almost twenty times. True, the protective gear caught most of it, but two grazes and one through and through to his left bicep made him bleed before he had even begun knife fighting the final two members of the wetworks team. The adrenaline rush had worn off about halfway home, nearly causing him to wreck the car in a residential neighborhood.

Pulling into the garage allowed him to rest a few minutes before Oz had come out to see what delayed his coming into the house. Seeing blood on the seat and Xander's face, as well as the very damaged Kevlar vest, caused Oz to nearly carry Xander inside. An hour of removing the gear, and most of the damaged clothing, showed how lucky Xander had been. Even through the protective armor, the bullet impacts left massive bruising, and several cracked ribs. It had taken several hours for Oz to patch up Xander's wounds and clean up the blood. Xander had helped for a bit before he finally sat down to avoid falling over. Eventually, Xander had taken some pain killers that took the edge off the majority of his injuries. Tylenol III was a godsend to him as the pain slowly receded. With Oz's help, Xander had finally made it to his bed before falling into a deep sleep.

Now that Xander was awake again, he looked at the clock next to the bed. Nearly twelve hours of sleep had helped some, but he didn't heal overnight. Then he noticed the pills and bottle of water sitting next to the clock. Giving a silent thanks to Oz, Xander popped the pills into his mouth and chugged half the bottle before setting it back down next to the clock. Slowly, he sat up, causing muscles to cramp and bones to ache. It took him almost five minutes to get to his feet, and another two to steady himself enough to walk to the bathroom. Noticing fairly new bandages, he realized someone had swapped them out while he slept, again probably his occasionally wolfy hacker friend.

Once in the bathroom, he took care of his basic needs before moving to the sink. The view in the mirror over the sink made him cringe. In addition to the four visible bandages, his chest and abdomen were spotted with dark bruises. Deep purple splotches scattered randomly across his torso illustrating the many reasons for his difficulty of movement. Gingerly he turned around and saw only one small bruise up on his shoulder. Having dealt with bruises before, although not quite this many at once, he knew that light movement would be preferred to immobility. It would keep his muscles from seizing up and would help break up the bruises a bit faster. That didn't mean it wouldn't hurt, but pain was something he could live with.

Making his way back to his room, he put on a t-shirt and sweat pants. Grabbing the half empty water bottle, he headed for the stairs to get some food from the kitchen downstairs. Surprisingly, going down the stairs was not as difficult as he had anticipated. Upon reaching the kitchen, he found Oz sitting at the table enjoying several sandwiches nearly overloaded with meat. Wordlessly, Oz pointed to the other plate sitting in front of an empty chair with a similar load.

"Thanks man." Xander smirked. "Appreciate the help last night."

Oz nodded as he continued eating. Xander joined him in silent chewing, only taking breaks from that activity to drink the rest of the water and the cup of coffee sitting near his plate. Once the meal was finished, Xander stood up, muscles still stiff and beginning to cramp from being unused even for a few minutes.

"Ya know, they never show this in the movies. They show the gun fights, and show people getting hit, but they never show how much it will hurt even if you are wearing Kevlar. They are always back in the action within hours at top speed." Xander commented.

Chuckling, Oz nodded. "Hollywood."

"True, it would make a really crappy movie if the hero was down for several days after each time his vest caught one, or in my case a lot more than one." Cocking his head slightly, Xander asked. "Did my little adventure last night make the news today?"

Oz shook his head. "Quiet"

"Oh well. I am going to do some stretching in front of the TV and see what lies they are telling today." Xander picked up both of their plates as he finished talking and walked them to the sink. Then he went to the fridge and pulled out a pair of cokes and passed one to Oz before heading to the living room. Xander spent the next hour gently stretching his muscles and easing them into a greater range of motion. It would not do well to lose agility when facing what Xander knew was coming.

His stretches were ended when his cell phone rang.

"Yeah."

"It's Giles. I have some rather disturbing news from the Devon coven."

"I am already in pain, so lay it on me."

"Their seers have all begun talking of a major shakeup in the supernatural world. Given what the seers have told the coven, they have already broken off all ties to the Watcher's Council and are now isolating themselves from almost all outsiders until the situation has resolved itself."

Xander replied. "That sounds ominous."

"Indeed it does. Luckily for us I have a childhood friend in the coven, and since I am no longer part of the council, I am allowed contact with several small restrictions. Unfortunately, the rest of the news is not good either, and hits a little closer to home. After my friend called me, I spent nearly two hours on the phone confirming events to the best of my ability."

"Giles, spit it out already. How bad is it?"

"Xander, The Slayer Kennedy is dead." Giles's voice was subdued, even over the phone.

"Fuck. What happened?" Came the angered reply.

"I am not entirely sure. She and her watcher were found after dawn this morning by a jogger in Wilkin's Park. Mr Mortinson, her watcher, was bound to a tree with chains. His hands and feet were cut off, and his eyes and tongue were also missing. He is currently at Sunnydale Memorial Hospital in critical condition due to the torture he also endured and they placed him in a medically induced coma."

"I didn't ask about the council stooge. I asked about Kennedy." Xander growled.

After a moment of silence, Giles continued. "I am sorry Xander. It is very disturbing. I lost what I had in my stomach before I finished the first page of the medical report." Giles took a deep breath. "From what the report states, she was overpowered. Once she was restrained, they bent her over a fallen tree and chained her down. Over the next few hours, she was beaten and repeatedly violated. Once they were finished, they inserted a five foot length piece of rebar between her legs and forced it through until the end came out of her mouth. The skewered her in such a way as to leave her alive and combined with the chains and torture, she was in excruciating pain for many hours and completely unable to move. When she was discovered, she was still alive and chained down. She died during emergency surgery several hours later."

All Giles could hear was a low growl from the phone as he finished speaking. It grew louder until Xander's voice shouted. "SHE WAS THIRTEEN YEARS OLD!"

"I know. I am sorry more could not be done to help her."

Xander retorted. "Her damned watcher refused to let anyone provide back up. He threw out all of the equipment I set up for them to use because it was not approved by the Watcher's Council. I damn near gift wrapped it and set it on their doorstep. Instead he gave her twigs, a barely working crossbow, and a sword that had more rust than metal. This WILL NOT happen again!"

"Then what do you propose we do, Xander? We do not have the resources to deal with this." Giles commented.

"Get ready to work your ass off, Giles. All Watcher's Council agents in North America are going to have their cover's blown today. Oz has located every one of them on the payroll. All of the current potentials in the United States and their watchers are going to be in for a rough time. I am taking care of the demon problem in Sunnydale tonight. I am tired of playing nice with the demons. If they will not police themselves, then we will do it for them. No mercy, no quarter, no exceptions."

Before Giles could respond, the call was ended.

* * *

Oz was busy at his computer. Xander had been quite irate, nearly destroying Oz's eardrums. Considering the actions, or rather stupidity of the council and demons, another slayer was dead after less than a month. Xander's instructions had been clear, he would deal with the demons himself, while Oz covered his side of things. If the first set of information sent to the feds had stirred up a hornet's nest, this next set would be the live action version of the old movie 'The Swarm'.

Sitting down at his computer, he began working on the tasks Xander had asked, more like ordered. First was making some changes to phone records, to make the investigators believe the council and it's associates were responsible for the explosion in Los Angeles as well as any further use of the same explosives in the near future. Next was the complete draining of every account associated with the council's informants, employees, and associates in the United States. This included moles in federal agencies, watchers, and many others. The third piece to play was sending a massive set of files to multiple federal agencies and high level government officials. Between the dozen agencies that used three letter abbreviations and the Presidential appointees in office, the council would have no useful sources of information or ways to bypass legal requirements. The only council assets not outed were the remaining wetworks teams. Oz and Xander had deemed it too dangerous to reveal them to the feds.

The last piece would take a while. Oz had obtained the names of every Slayer who had been in America over the last fifty years. Xander had asked Oz to ignore the official cause of death given by the council through 'copies' of past watcher's diaries. Xander did not believe for a moment that every Slayer had died from demon attacks. Oz had agreed with him. While this was taking place, Oz had also begun running traces on every potential Giles had remembered the names for or could acquire. Xander had been curious as to where they went or did after they turned eighteen and were no longer able to be called as Slayer. Between the information Giles had provided, and what he had already been able to gather as basic background info on past Slayers over the last thirty years, Oz had already seen that the known estimate of Slayer lifespans was woefully inaccurate. Instead of eight to ten months, it appeared that Slayers in America lasted closer to six weeks. Oz wondered if Giles was aware of the glaring lies he had been told by the council.

* * *

It was just before four in the afternoon when a massive file dump hit the FBI's email server. It also arrives at the ATF, CIA, NSA, ICE, NCIS, CID, and many other agencies. Moments later, it arrived at other servers, ones used by such as the Supreme Court, Attorney General, Secretary of Defense, Secretary of State, and most other political appointees. Congressmen, Senators, Governors, and the President all received emails notifying them of the massive list of foreign agents currently employed by the federal government.

Tobias Fornell had been reviewing the information so far uncovered into the city of Sunnydale and it's employees. At the current time, nearly thirty were using false identities due to being wanted by various law enforcement agencies across the country. Between the fake cops, and rampant identity fraud that made up most of the remaining city staff, Fornell felt numb. On one hand, uncovering this level of corruption that met RICO standards was a career maker; while on the other it depressed him that this many people could fly under the radar for so long and get away with it. By the mortality statistics combined with the missing persons reports, it was beginning to look like this small city in California had very nasty secrets. For a population of just over forty thousand, in the last three decades nearly fifty thousand people had either died there or just disappeared.

As he began to stand up and head to his boss's office, a ping from his computer drew his attention. Checking the notification, he opened his email program and read the new arrival. He had to re-read it three times before it clicked in his brain and moved the mouse to open it. There in black and white, sorted by agency then alphabetically, were names of several hundred government employees. In columns after each name was the agency or military branch they fell under, as well as addresses, bank account info, and a link to each person's individual file contained in a staggeringly large series of files. Falling back into his chair, he stared at the monitor then laid his head on his desk. To no one in particular, his only response was "Well. Shit."

* * *

It was nearing dusk when the phone rang at Willie's. Picking up the handset, he greeted his caller. "What do ya want." The way he spoke made it less a question than a reflexive response.

"Well, world peace, lifetime supply of Twinkies, but I will settle for you passing along a message to all of your customers for the rest of the night." Came the voice on the other end.

"And why the fuck would I do that? I'm not your answering service." Willie replied. '

"Because if you don't, I will ram a truck loaded with enough C-4 to send your bar into low earth orbit and then watch it go from half a mile away."

"Who the hell are you?" Willie asked. Sweat was beginning to form on his forehead.

"Aww, you don't remember me. By the way, hired a new bouncer yet?" The almost jovial voice asked.

"Ok. Ok. What's the message? I'll pass it along." Willie said as he picked up a pen and a notepad from under the bar top.

"It's simple. Two days ago I told you and your customers the rules. No one seems to want to listen. In the last two days, more than fifty people are dead due to demon attacks of some kind. That includes a thirteen year old girl who was beaten, raped, tortured, and impaled. At this point, it does not matter who did it. I flat out stated that Slayers were OFF LIMITS!"

"I can't control what my customers do outside my bar. And there are a bunch of demons that don't come here." Willie was getting nervous as he spoke.

"Not my problem. Here is what will happen. Tonight, three hours after midnight I will unleash my wrath on the demons of Sunnydale. If they refuse to follow the rules, or police themselves, I will have to do it for them. I don't care where they are, who they are, or how peaceful they are anymore. They had their chance, now it is my turn." The phone line went dead. Willie's shaking hand returned the handset to the phone. Somehow he did not think being open late would be a good idea tonight.

* * *

At five minutes till three in the morning, Xander sat with Oz on the peak of the safe house roof. Being two stories with an attic above, it was even with the tallest buildings for many blocks. In one hand was a freshly opened can of coke, and in the other was a remote trigger. Xander had planned out his response to the demons if they refused to clean up their activities, and leave humans alone. Before his last visit to Willie's, Xander and Oz had placed fourteen explosive devices at various points down inside the tunnels under Sunnydale. Since then, he had placed a few more in areas he could access while working alone.

The twenty two charges were somewhat different than the ones they had used to eliminate the council safe house and it's occupants outside Los Angeles. Instead of using the smaller propane tanks commonly sold for BBQ grills, Xander had picked up the larger tanks normally found on an RV. This doubled the amount of propane and anhydrous hydrogen peroxide that would be used. Each tank was wrapped with three rings of detcord that had been woven into rope. Unfortunately, he was running low on dynamite, so each tank was capped with a thermite charge on an electrical trigger. Xander figured it would take more bang to clear out the massive network of utility tunnels and storm drains.

With one minute left till showtime, Xander looked to Oz and spoke. "It pays to plan ahead. I'll bet demons have been running around for hours trying to find me."

"Probably." Was the response from the normally stoic Oz.

"This should teach the demons that I don't make idle threats." Xander checked his watch. "Here we go!" He flipped the cover off the switch and pressed the switch to the 'detonate' position.

* * *

Sunday and her vampire minions were returning to their abandoned frat house via the tunnel system. For years she had used the same methods for finding food. It was also a good way to keep up on fashion and pick up some much needed cash. Earlier tonight, she and her minions had taken two freshmen out for dinner. That neither would be seen again was not a problem in her mind. As her minions had cleaned out their shared room in the UC Sunnydale dorms, she had prepared notes saying that the students couldn't take the pressure of college life and were leaving. It made for fewer questions in the long run.

They were about halfway back to their lair when the ground shook. Steadying herself, she looked back toward her minions to see if they were still carrying the loot. Verifying the newly acquired items were undamaged, she turned to face forward again just as a wind kicked up. Freezing in place, she saw an orange glow far ahead. Before she could determine what it was, a wall of force and flame struck her and her minions, reducing them to dust.

* * *

Spike and Drucilla were enjoying themselves. A few fresh minions had picked up some happy meals on legs for the two masters to enjoy. Holed up in an abandoned warehouse, they were pretty well off compared to most other vampires. Since someone had taken out the two Slayers a couple weeks ago, and the new slayer being a scrawny child, it was time for new management and a new order on the Hellmouth.

Just as Drucilla was about to finish her drink, a handsome Latino stoned out of his mind on weed, she sat up and dropped her dinner. Spike knew what this meant, a vision. Her visions may sound like nonsense, but he had not survived this long by believing they were. He watched as the vampress stood holding Mrs Edith in the crook of her arm. She looked to the sky, then down toward the ground.

"Mrs Edith says wrath is coming fast, burning winds to carry us away. The stars say kitten is angry. The baby Slayer is dead and kitten is unleashing his rage. Revenge is served cold, but punishment is hot and terrible. Oh my dear Spike, it will be here soon!"

"The new Slayer is dead? And you say the whelp is gonna be coming?" Spike asked.

"No, my dear Spike, my kitten does not have to come himself. His wrath is so great. Its too late, now." Drucilla responded.

As she finished speaking, a flood of fire washed out from the basement, crashing over the group of vampires. The warehouse was too weak and small to contain the blaze and shattered the blacked out windows letting the hot winds carry the dusty remains of the two vampire lovers to mingle forever.

* * *

Mayor Wilkins was curious. Willie had called him and delivered the message from the recently arrived demon hunter. It was likely in response to the death of the Slayer that had been called since the two others had been killed. Thinking a moment, he remembered her name being 'Kennedy'. Now he sat at home in the study on the second floor. From his rather comfortable chair, he looked out over Sunnydale. For a century, he had been preparing for his Ascension later this year. Three more days till the dedication ceremony that would provide him one hundred days of invincibility. If the hunter survived tonight, considering how many demons were currently searching for him throughout cemeteries and other non-residential areas, maybe it would be nice to take care of it himself. That brought a smile to his face as he thought about it.

A sharp pain gripped his chest and he felt his heart skip a beat. Glancing out the window, he saw a beautiful and terrifying sight. Instead of a sleepy town, he saw flames erupt from dozens... no hundreds of different places. Another surge of pain struck him. Quickly he stood, and took a closer look out the window. Turning his eyes toward City Hall, he knew things were not going to be as he had planned. City Hall was gone, and with it were the enchantments attached to his position of Mayor. It was also where he had placed the anchor for his power. A stronger wave of pain brought him to one knee.

"No. He couldn't have known about me."

Richard Wilkins the first, as well as second and third, fell to his hands and knees as power was ripped from his body. Many of his bargains for power had been channeled through his position and City Hall itself. He began to writhe in agony as contracts were severed, removing all of the benefits he had received from them. In mere moments, the power he had was drained, leaving a desiccated corpse on the floor in it's place.

* * *

Under the library at Sunnydale High School, the Hellmouth shook. The ground cracked and broke open the seal that had been in place for many years. The last time it had opened was two years before when the Master, Heinrich Nest, had been freed. The short duration of that event had merely been a hiccup in the protections put in place to prevent hell on earth. The final blow to open the Hellmouth came with the intense pressure of a shock wave. The same wave that had filled the tunnels and sewers for miles around met in one location, the seal. Traveling at more than fifty times the speed of sound, and amplified by the multiple detonations in the network of underground passageways, the wave of force and heat struck the seal with more power than a runaway freight train. It shattered and was propelled down into the mouth of hell itself. The demons that had been locked away behind the seal never knew, they simply ceased to exist.

At the same moment the seal was destroyed, thus opening the Hellmouth, the final remnants of an extremely powerful spell were undone. For a century, the power of the Hellmouth had been siphoned, with most of the energy being stored for use by Richard Wilkins, unleashed it returned to it's original source. The siphon had been necessary to prevent the Hellmouth from opening a century ago. Power, far more than any god could claim and more than any sane god could even begin to control, slammed into the Hellmouth mere moments after it had opened. The effect was catastrophic, for one dimension. Conduits, even those that bridge dimensions, require a certain level of power to open or maintain. The power that returned to the Hellmouth dwarfed that level by many orders of magnitude causing the Hellmouth to implode with most of the backlash traveling through to hell.

The damage from the Hellmouth to Sunnydale was relatively minor. A perfect half sphere of earth was missing measuring six hundred feet deep and twelve hundred feet wide. Everything inside that area was simply gone. It left parts of the school building and grounds that fell outside that exact boundary. The remains of the structures looked as if God had cut them with a knife, taking the missing matter and leaving the rest completely unharmed. On the other end of the dimensional portal, the damage was exponentially greater. The wave of power and destruction rolled across the surface, extinguishing all life on the planet itself.

* * *

Xander and Oz sat a moment after the bombs were triggered. Neither noticed anything at first, but within a few seconds the ground began to shake and every light in Sunnydale went out. Nearly at the same moment, jets of fire rose out from hundreds of openings from manholes to street drains. Warehouses and many other buildings across the industrial and commercial areas sprouted their own fires before shattering into flying debris. Then the sound hit them, a series of loud blasts not quite in harmony with the growing rumble from the ground itself. All over Sunnydale, the earth erupted if the weight of the ground over the tunnels and sewers was not sufficient to hold back the pressure.

Xander and Oz stared in mute amazement and horror at the destruction. Unable to move or form words, they watched as secondary fires and explosions proceeded to rapidly gain purchase. City Hall, the Police Station, and the City Court House were all visible from their vantage point, and the two observers were witness to the complete destruction of these monuments to small town life. A moment later, a deep red glow surged from the shattered remains of City Hall and flew toward the High School. Unable to speak, they watched in terrified wonder as the Hellmouth was overloaded. Soon they were staring at the empty place that once held the High School, the void illuminated by the fires spread over the nearby area. Oz gave a short glace toward Xander, only to see Xander's shocked face and his jaw hanging.

Xander looked down at his hand, and the trigger he still held. "Oops."

"Wow." Was the monosyllabic reply from Oz.

"Um. I ... Oops." With his brain overwhelmed, a complete sentence was currently eluding Xander.

"Overkill?" Oz inquired.

"Um... Yeah. Just a bit." Xander answered as his brain finally began reconnecting to his mouth.

"Hellmouth"

"I think its gone." Xander thought a moment. "You did put those partially assembled bombs on the council's plane, right?"

Oz nodded his ascent.

"Think the feds may look into this?" Xander asked.

The two teens locked eyes a moment, then simultaneously started down off the roof.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Most of Sunnydale still struggled with the combined effects of being awakened too early and the devastation that had caused it. Shattered windows, partially collapsed ceilings, and falling debris gave rise to many injuries ranging from minor cuts to a few broken bones. Panic began to set in once the residents realized electrical power was out, as well as phone lines and water. The situation was not improved by the noise. All over Sunnydale, car alarms were blaring while emergency sirens wailed, creating their own confusion. The resulting chaos exploded as people began paying attention to more than their immediate condition and noticed the bright orange glow emminating from the downtown and industrial districts.

While not in a full panic, two teens were busy loading a pair of vehicles. Oz's van was quickly filling with computer equipment, weapons, ammo, and clothing. Due to the limited space in the truck of Xander's car, it was loaded first with his body armor, two duffel bags of clothing, a few grenades, and five guns plus their ammo. All of the remaining items to be moved nearly filled the van before they were finished.

"Oz, take the old road that runs past the water treatment plant. Once it turns to gravel, stay on it till you get to the back route into LA. Head for the bunker Rory has Giles stashed at. It shouldn't take more than three hours, and there are a couple gas stations on the way after an hour or so."

"Got it." Oz replied. "And you?"

"Giles mentioned a fairly strong witch in San Francisco. I was planning on visiting her soon anyway, and she knows I am coming. I am going to need some magical protection before this gets any worse. I don't want the council to be able to find me easily."

"Good luck. Check in daily."

"Planned on it. I'll meet up with you guys once things settle down a bit. I may end up hitting Seattle, since the council has another team there. We need to keep them on the defensive."

"True. Later." Oz answered as he climbed into the driver's seat of the van.

Xander shut the side door of the van, having placed the last items inside. Then he slapped the metal of the side door twice before racing toward the open garage to get into his own car. Oz backed the van down the driveway, and quickly headed off on the route Xander had given him. Unfortunately, Xander's car was not capable of taking the same route. Designed for road use only, it did not have the ground clearance necessary to traverse the gravel, and sometimes dirt, roadway. Instead, Xander had a different route in mind. It was a bit more dangerous, considering the current state of things, but more likely to be blocked or damaged.

Heading in a different direction than that of the van, he sped off toward the little used road normally reserved for teens looking for a place to engage in more romantic activities. Near the end of that road was a turn off which was more of a utility access for the back side of the Sunnydale Armory, a small army base only a few miles outside town. The danger lay in the possibility of the military reacting by placing the base on alert, which would have armed and trained soldiers guarding the base perimeter. If they chose to stop him, he would not have the ability of evading them on the two lane blacktop.

* * *

FBI Agent Fornell had slept in his office. Since the email dump from the anonymous source the day before, very few people had been idle. When news of the files hit the command level of the FBI, orders had been flying non-stop. More than thirty FBI agents names were listed in the files, all of them supposedly received payments from foreign interests, causing quite a bit of confusion. Several of the names were of higher ranking FBI agents, with four having been with the FBI for more than twenty years. Twenty-six were currently being detained, for questioning, and less than ten were still 'at large' while the information in the data files was being checked.

Having been awake since five AM, he was already on his third cup of coffee as he continued the tasks he had started the afternoon before. All agents had been re-tasked to verify the anonymous files, and each agent had been assigned a list of names and provided access to anything they needed. The names Tobias had been looking into belonged to Immigration Customs and Enforcement. Hundreds of pages for each name would likely take weeks to verify completely, so they had been instructed to pick five random data points and verify them before moving to the next name. Halfway through the list, his phone rang.

"Fornell." He answered.

The voice of the SAC in charge of the current investigation sounded just as tired as Tobias felt. "The army base just outside Sunnydale went on lock-down fifteen minutes ago. They were forced to go to backup generators when someone decided to blow up half the town a couple miles away. They can see the glow of the fires and heard what sounded like dozens of explosions. To make it worse, the USGS just recorded two earthquakes centered in the same location. The first was a 3.8, and the second one a few minutes later registered a 5.2."

Fornell nearly dropped the handset. "My God. What the hell happened?"

"We don't know. There are no communications from Sunnydale since the first earthquake hit. All attempts to reach the city government or police have been unsuccessful. With the information we have, NEST is on the way there now, along with personnel from most of the FBI offices west of Denver. Already the Governor is calling for the National Guard to be activated as well as FEMA, but that won't happen for at least a day."

* * *

It was several hours before Xander pulled in to fill his gas tank. In the rush to leave Sunnydale he also realized he had no food or drinks in the car with him. After a few minutes thought about the problems, he had decided to risk stopping at a mom and pop truck stop on US 101. It wasn't large, having only enough room for maybe twenty large trucks, but would do for what he needed since there was a diner taking up half the building.

Filling up the tank was a short task, even counting the extra trip inside to prepay with cash. Once done, he had backed into a parking space in front of the diner. The inside reminded him of a movie he had seen about a guy running beer from Texas to Georgia. Eventually he had taken a seat at the counter as all the other places had been occupied. The menu itself had been an interesting assortment of greasy foods, which Xander found to his liking. Feeling rather in need of food, he ordered nachos for an appetizer with a burger, fries and a coke.

He was mostly done with his unhealthy goodness before realizing the old guy next to him was telling a story to the waitress behind the counter. Something about strange Chinese guys in LA. Paying more attention, he heard some details about a green eyed girl, three storms, and a guy in a wheelchair called Lo Pan. As he finished his food, he listened as the story wrapped up.

"When some wild-eyed, eight-foot-tall maniac grabs your neck, taps the back of your favorite head up against the barroom wall, looks you crooked in the eye, and asks you if you paid your dues; you just stare that big sucker right back in the eye, and you remember what ol' Jack Burton always says at a time like that: 'Have you paid your dues, Jack? Yes, sir, the check is in the mail.' "

Xander chuckled, murmuring. "Sounds like my high school."

The old man turned to him. "High School? Hrm. Name's Jack Burton. I drive the truck out back called the Pork Chop Express."

"Xander. Driving the Chevelle parked out front." He said as he pointed.

Jack turned to look out the front window of the diner where the kid had pointed. "Not bad. Like the color too."

"Rebuilt it with help from my uncle."

"So where ya headed?"

"Not sure. Needed to get away from everything for a while. Just planned on driving where the road takes me." Xander replied.

"Then listen to ol` Jack Burton here. If you are headed north of Sacramento, stick to the Five. Snows are always bad this time of year, and the roads get slick fast. If you are headed south, the One Oh One is fine. Going east will be tricky. Best to drop down to the Forty since Eighty is closed over Donner. Its big ol` mess from the storm two days ago. Car like yours won't make it over any of the other ways."

"Nice to know. I gotta get moving though. Have a few more hours till I get to my friend's place on the coast."

Jack nodded. Ride safe kid and keep your eyes peeled. I'm not saying that I've been everywhere and I've done everything, but I do know it's a pretty amazing planet we live on, and a man would have to be some kind of FOOL to think we're alone in THIS universe."

"Appreciate the advice." Xander replied as he laid down some cash for the meal as well as a nice tip.

* * *

Not long after noon, Xander pulled up in front of an older home in San Francisco. It had taken longer to make the trip than he had planned, and he was a bit tired considering he had no sleep in over twenty four hours. Giles had told him to be polite and unarmed, since the woman that lived here would not be kind to any possible threats against herself or her family. Reluctantly, he disarmed himself, placing the myriad of weapons in places that would be hidden from anyone looking into his car.

Once presentable, he walked to the front door. After knocking, he waited. Within a few minutes, the door was opened and an elderly woman greeted him. "I assume you are Alexander. Rupert mentioned you would be by sometime."

"Yes, ma'am. Did he mention why I was stopping by?" Xander answered.

"Vaguely. Oh my. My manners." She stepped back from the doorway while holding the door open.

Grinning, he stepped inside, allowing her to shut the door. "At least you seem to know about the night life."

"Quite. I have some knowledge, so join me in the kitchen and we can get down to what you are here for." She led him through to a rustic yet well cared for kitchen which was currently being used, based on the wonderful aromas in the air. "Now then, coffee?"

"If it is not too much trouble. I am kinda running on no sleep at the moment." Xander answered.

As she began preparing coffee, she asked. "So why is Rupert sending you to me? Is there something you are looking for that he is unable to assist with?"

"There are a couple of ideas I had that he wasn't sure about. The first being a spell or charm that would prevent anyone from attacking me through magic, like attacking my mind or taking control of me."

She thought a moment before responding. "That should be fairly simple, however, it has limits. Mind magic is difficult at best, and is easily blocked by a simple charm on a piece of jewelry. More direct attacks may be able to overpower the charm if the person is strong enough."

"Second is something to keep me from being tracked or scried on. I will likely have some very hostile people coming for me, and I would rather they not know where I am."

"That one is easy since it is covered by the same charm. I am surprised Rupert did not take care of this for you already. He has the skill and power needed." She chuckled.

"It is the third problem that caused him to send me here. In the last couple years I have been possessed by two different spirits...


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Wow. 20k hits. Glad you guys like this so far.

Chapter 12

Since Oz had arrived at the secure bunker, he had spent quite a bit of time setting up his computer equipment and a secure internet connection. It had taken hours longer than anticipated due to the age of the bunker and lack of access points for data lines. Twelve hours longer than he had wished. On the other hand, this data line was faster and much more secure than what he had been using at the safe house in Sunnydale. While Rory was not as computer savvy as Oz, he had installed a single data line. Tapping into one of the main trunk lines from Los Angeles to Phoenix, it masked the actual location extremely well. With the improvements Oz had added, he could mimic any location on the continent.

Once online, after the considerable delays, he began updating himself on what had been happening since being forced out of Sunnydale. Emails were taken care of quickly, as few had any information of note. The news from Sunnydale was less than good. Between the communications issues and the fleeing refugees, the situation was a cause of major concern. While no fatalities had been reported yet, many injuries were. Most were from flying debris, broken glass being the most common. It was difficult to justify that many innocents being hurt, but he remembered the look of pure shock on Xander's face. The scale of the destruction was far beyond what had been planned, so far that Xander would likely tear himself up over it.

On a more positive note was the news coming from the Governor's office, Sunnydale was being completely evacuated of all residents. Due to the devastation, Sunnydale was being declared a disaster area, allowing FEMA and the military to assist with the refugees as well as the search and rescue efforts already swinging into motion. Several mobile medical stations were being assembled on the major routes out of Sunnydale to assist the injured. Tankers of gasoline and diesel were sitting roadside and being used to fill up vehicles headed out of the Sunnydale area. Even the Army base was a hive of activity, as helicopters from the base were being used to rescue those who were unable to get out of town on their own.

The TV news programs had already begun their reports on the 'Terrorist Attack' in Sunnydale. It was worse than the explosion Xander had caused outside LA, and the 'experts' had gone off the deep end of sanity by this point. More claims of a nuclear weapon being detonated, not entirely unreasonable in this case, were countered by claims of the government performing a false-flag disaster to allow them to declare war some random country. Within hours, the arguments had moved from the insane to somewhere past ludicrous, one 'expert' with rather unkempt hair was quoted 'I'm not saying it was aliens, but... it was aliens.'

While several news channels played in the background, Oz checked the electronic drop box Lord Nikon had mentioned two days earlier. What he found was staggering. Twenty years of city employee records plus backgrounds on most. It was noticeable that while many positions were filled for long term by one or two people, other positions seemed to have a new person every week or two. Of those fast turnover positions, most of the people had disappeared entirely. The position of Mayor's secretary had a new person every ten days, like clockwork, for more than twenty years. None of them had been seen or heard from again once the ten days of employment were complete. The information on employees who had been in Sunnydale for years was almost as bad. Cops, utility workers, administration, and more seemed to be filled with people on the run from various entities. Nearly all had criminal records, ranging from theft and embezzlement to human trafficking and murder.

Downloading the entire list of files would take some time, so Oz decided to take a break and get the sleep he had not been able to get in two days. For the first time, his dreams were not filled with visions of Willow's death.

* * *

Xander woke sluggishly, but at least it was not accompanied by intense and widespread pain. Grateful of the sleep, his body moved more smoothly, almost floating really. It took him a few moments to realize he no longer had the background voices that had been in his mind since each of his two possessions. For the most part, it had been easy to ignore them completely, and rarely did he actually pay attention to them until recently. Now there was a strange silence. He was so used to the voices being there, that the absence felt weird, and a bit unnerving. Quickly he looked around the room, he assumed it was a guest room at the witch's house since it had the same warm rustic look. It had not taken him long to explain the issues he had with the two spirits, and that wonderful woman gave him the help he wanted.

Taking a deep breath to gather his thoughts, an amazing bouquet of smells greeted his nose. Identifying the aromas.. bacon, eggs, butter, toast, coffee, orange juice, jasmine... the list went on. Considering the size of the house, and where he had been told the guest room was by Penny Halliwell, he should not have been able to smell the kitchen from here. Once more looking around the room, he noticed details that he had been unable to see before. Focusing on the sounds around him, he could hear someone talking downstairs, but not make out what was being said. A quick glace at himself, he decided it would likely be a good idea to put some clothes on before making his way to his host.

Seeing the duffel bag he had brought inside once Mrs Halliwell had agreed to help him, he opened it and retrieved some clothing. A t-shirt advertising Oz's band was joined by a pair of blue jeans, boxers, and socks. His boots sat at the foot of the bed, and were easily put in place on his feet once the other clothing was worn. Once ready, he packed his clothes from the day before, he noticed they had been folded neatly and placed in the chair next to the bed, he zipped the duffel bag closed and went downstairs.

As he made his way to the kitchen, with a small pit stop in the bathroom to take care of a few things, he was amazed at the increasing intensity of his olfactory sense. He grinned, realizing the merging spell had worked just as Mrs Halliwell had intended. It would probably take some time to explore and get used to using the heightened senses and likely the memories he now had access to. It took only a few moments to arrive at his destination, the source of the lovely scents he had been enjoying since his eyes had opened.

"Good morning, Alexander." Came the greeting from Penny.

"So far." He chuckled. "I didn't realize I had slept that long. I guess the lack of sleep caught up to me."

"Yes it did." She smiled. "The spell took more out of you than I believed it would, and I was barely able to half carry you to the guest room."

"I am sorry about that. I don't remember anything after you started the spell. Even though it is a bit retroactive, I appreciate you letting me stay the night."

"Not a problem, young man. I assume you woke when I started making breakfast. I guessed you may be a bit hungry." She had turned back to face the stove, and it's contents.

"I would not disagree with you, it would be impolite to turn down free food." Xander replied. "I'm still a growing boy." He poured himself a cup of coffee from the carafe on the table and took a sip.

"From what I have seen, when I helped you into bed and undressed you, I would say you have grown plenty. If I was forty years younger..." She commented as Xander was mid sip. His reaction made her laugh as he choked on the hot coffee and nearly sprayed a mouthful over the table. "I hope you find a good woman some day. You will likely make her very happy. Very VERY happy. But enough about that. How are you feeling this morning? I assume you have begun to notice some differences from before?"

After Xander was finally able to swallow, while his face was red from a combination of having his airway momentarily blocked as well as the blush from the grandmotherly woman's comments. "Yeah, my sense of smell is much better, and my vision is sharper. I think my hearing is the same, but I don't think my sense of taste has changed much. The coffee tastes the same even if it does have a much better and stronger smell than before. Same with my sense of touch, I haven't noticed any difference."

"It is about what I expected. Touch and taste may vary, but most mammals are similar in that respect. It is the other three you would have gained from where Hyenas are concerned. You may also notice an increase in strength and faster reflexes, but I am unsure as to what degree. The other spirit will have less of a physical effect I believe. It's benefits would be more in your mind instead of your body. You may find you have skills you never had before, or improvements to skills you already possess. I would advise you explore them and see how things have turned out." Penny said as she finished placing a plate in front of Xander.

"That would likely be a good idea to find out what I can do before I end up in a bad situation." Xander's eyes had been locked on the plate as it moved from stove to the table. It was exactly what he had smelled from upstairs. Even better was the quantity, more than enough for a growing boy... make that man he had become. Thinking on it, he remembered also smelling jasmine, and sniffed the air. "Your perfume, it has jasmine in it?"

She smiled. "Among other things. Your sense of smell should come in useful. But I will caution you. As your heightened senses are more easily able to pick up more for you, they can also be overwhelmed more often. What would normally be a loud sound may end up causing you great pain. I would advise experimenting with sounds away from people to help you understand your limits. Your sense of smell will likely bring you as many bad smells as good ones, so do be cautious in where you go. You may want to avoid farms for a while."

Xander was chewing the magnificent food as she had spoken. Understanding why she was giving the advice, he thought about it as he ate. Nodding as he swallowed "You have a good point. I may have to get some ear plugs or something better soon. As for smell, I will have to experiment with it a bit."

* * *

Watcher's Council HQ was in chaos. At least, at much chaos as would be allowed. Another meeting had been called by Quentin Travers, and no one dared miss it. Too much had happened within the last forty-eight hours, which meant that everyone was attempting to determine the current state of things.

"Quentin. The team from Chicago was wiped out. We did receive the reports within a few hours of it happening, at the same time we also received the reports about the Slayer and her watcher. At this point, it appears that while both events occurred in the same city, it is not likely the same person was responsible." Mr Smythe spoke. "The police reports, while not exactly reliable, did contain numerous witness statements verifying a single person was responsible for the deaths of the twelve men we sent. The security camera from the motel showed a lone assailant, who looks to have been struck multiple times by weapons fire. If you take into account the armor the person was wearing, we can rule out any abilities or strengths above what a normal human has."

Quentin was a statement of barely contained rage. "You mean to tell me your teams are so incompetent as to be unable to get rid of a lone human? Please tell me again why we have these teams in the first place!"

If Travers was rage, Smythe was calm. "The first team were not attacked directly, but rather lured to one location and taken out by explosive device. That would be something nearly anyone with access to a library could do. The team from Chicago was ambushed while in the motel, and taken by surprise. Police photos show the attacker had substantial cover in the form of a large metal bin, which would have stopped almost all return fire. He struck from a superior position, with greater firepower, but was injured to an unknown extent. Evidence gathered at the scene showed a blood train from his position that led to the bodies of two who were killed by blade instead of firearms. Unfortunately, the blood taken into evidence was in the police station when it was destroyed the next night. It was never sent out for testing."

"Damn. I want that person found and removed. He has caused too much trouble to us already." Quentin ordered. "What about our people in the United States?"

Roger Windham-Price spoke up, looking a bit better than he had at the previous meeting. "I am afraid they are lost. More than 12 hours prior to the series of explosions and fires in Sunnydale, our contacts were outed. An unknown source sent the names, accounts, and other information to multiple agencies in the colonies. As of this moment, every one of our contacts is either in custody, hiding, or fleeing the country. It also appears that every Watcher with a potential was also targeted. There was no warning given, and only one Watcher with a potential escaped capture. Currently, the Watchers are being held on a combination of charges depending on the acquisition of the potential. There are charges of homicide, kidnapping, child abuse, statutory rape, and a range of others. Considering they were caught with the potentials, it is likely none of them will ever see the outside of an American prison. For all intents and purposes, the North American division consists of only Canada and Mexico, with very little in the way of assets or resources. It will likely take at least a decade to gain back most of our former capability if we were able to start now; and with the current attention this issue has caused, we would have to wait years before attempting to place our people where the would need to be."

"I don't care what the current attention is doing, we need our people in place. Get whoever you need and write up a proposal to be on my desk in forty-eight hours. Placement of our personnel will begin within the next thirty days at the latest. I do not care how you do it, but it will happen!" Quentin shouted.

"There are two other issues that must be mentioned as well." Edmond Giles spoke. "The first is the apparent closing of the Hellmouth in California."

All eyes turned to the elder Giles as gasps of shock and disbelief were heard. Smythe was the first to break ask. "Has it been verified?"

Mr Giles nodded. "One of our seers reported it before falling into a coma. I made some calls to verify the information with several of our less savory associates, and all confirmed the power has shifted away from there in a manner most unusual. Nineteen different sources confirmed it was not just closed, but gone."

"How was it accomplished?" a voice inquired.

"That part is unknown. One report we received was from a seer in Guatemala. She stated, and this is a direct quote mind you, 'Hell should be wary of power stolen. When that power returns, all is lost. The Sixth Circle is no more.' That is all she would say on the subject. Another source said he felt the Hellmouth opening before a massive surge of power overwhelmed him. When he regained his senses, he could no longer feel the Hellmouth at all. Due to events of the last day, it is unlikely we will be able to get anyone in place to verify it ourselves. The American government is evacuating the area completely, and not allowing anyone to get closer than twenty miles from the center of Sunnydale. Second-hand reports are currently our best option for any further information."

"Have there been any updates from the other Hellmouths?" Quentin interjected.

"I had the same thoughts as soon as I heard what was happening in Sunnydale." Edmond continued. "As of one hour ago, no other locations are reporting any instability or increase in current activity. This runs counter to the records of the last time someone was able to close a Hellmouth. When one was destroyed, another went active and a new dormant Hellmouth was created. In this case, all evidence points to that occurring this time, but it has not happened. The few mages and witches we employ directly are working currently to locate any new Hellmouth that will appear, however, I find it doubtful they will be successful. This brings me to my second issue. The Slayer that was near the Hellmouth."

"What of her. She died more than twelve hours prior to the Hellmouth being destroyed." Roger replied.

"True, yet we have not yet found the new Slayer. We know one was Called, but without the Devon coven, the location has not been narrowed down. None of the current potentials we have were Called. It seems the new Slayer was not a potential we were aware of. Much like the Summers girl, she was not trained nor was she on our list of possible Slayers."

Quentin snapped. "Then who the hell is she and where?"

Edmond answered. "As to where she is, it has been narrowed down to within two-hundred miles of Beijing. This presents a problem, as over five hundred million people live inside the area described. I contacted all of the Watchers in that area, and none have reported any missing potentials. Even more disturbing is the potentials in the area all have Watchers. It is possible the Slayer is someone not native to the area, but not guaranteed. We have few resources in China currently that have magical talent, so locating her will be a lengthy ordeal."

Quentin was at a loss. This was not how things should be. "Someone please tell me there is some good news buried in all of this rubbish."

Smythe spoke up. "Liverpool beat Manchester three to one." He smirked as he finished.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

MTAC was nearly vacant once more as only two men stood inside, Director Morrow and Agent Leon Vance. On the screen, the heads of various agencies occupied their space in a massive video conference. The last several hours had been spent sharing information between agencies to bring everyone up to date on the current investigation. From what had been gathered, mostly being verification of the information an anonymous source had sent them, the situation had gone from bad to conspiracy theorists wet-dream. Information going back decades, some even to the onset of the cold war, painted a picture no one wanted to believe.

The FBI Director was finishing his briefing as the remainder listened. "...What we have is an international organization that willfully engages in criminal activities. They are operating an unknown amount of twelve man cells. They have successfully infiltrated military, law enforcement, and civilian government positions around the country. Nearly overwhelming evidence, plus the recovery of over fifty girls ranging in age from five to seventeen, is proof they have operated here with impunity. Most of the girls do not respond to their birth names, at least those we have been able to positively identify, leading us to assume some type of brain washing or conditioning has been used. Of the girls identified, it seems all of the original investigations into their disappearance as well as possible murders of their parents were stonewalled or shut down completely. Are we really this incompetent as federal agencies? Are the city police this corrupt everywhere we look? Two weeks ago I would have thought this type of case would never be possible. One last thing, it seems when the latest files were sent to us, someone had already cleaned out every bank account listed. All of the money was distributed amongst numerous charity groups, once again. This latest round totaled over forty million dollars was split between the Shriner's Hospital network and the Ronald McDonald's House."

A round of chuckles was the response to the final words from the FBI. The AG spoke up. "Considering the size of this investigation, it will take years for us to understand the scope. There is no way for us to keep this out of the public eye, and if we delay announcing it we end up in deep shit. I am not going to take the fall for a cover-up when this goes public, and I doubt any of you will either. It looks like there will be a press conference. The President already gave me permission to pursue this in any manner necessary, even if it means he takes a hit. He doesn't have to worry about re-election, but our jobs will be on the line no matter how this falls. Be ready for a swarm of calls, gentlemen. The nightmare is only beginning."

"There is one other issue." The FBI Director quickly stated. "Before the... event.. in Sunnydale, one of my agents uncovered some rather disturbing information about the city government. I am not sure how much of it still exists, but it appears that more than half the city employees if you include the police force were involved in an ongoing criminal enterprise as well. Most of those involved were wanted by law enforcement across the country, some for more than two decades. It seems the Mayor, one Richard Wilkins the third, was recruiting his own loyal followers by providing them with false identities while letting them continue their activities in his jurisdiction. The Police Chief was wanted in Miami for running a human trafficking ring as well as murder and various other associated crimes. He disappeared twenty two years ago, and somehow ended up as the top cop in Sunnydale. I am forwarding all LE departments and agencies across the country with updated wanted posters for everyone we have found so far, in addition to the foreign agents we have yet to capture from the list included in the latest info dump."

"Do we yet know how we are dealing with the military personnel involved? We have seven marines and two seaman who are currently sitting in the brig awaiting arraignment on multiple charges. Is this going to be a civilian prosecution or are they being tried under UCMJ?" Director Morrow inquired.

"While it may be better for public relations for them to be tried in civilian courts, it would be more efficient and better long term for them to use the UCMJ. Go ahead and contact JAG for setting up trials, I believe they will be quite busy in the near future. I want all military law enforcement to check into every suspect involved who either is or was military. If there is evidence of crimes taking place while they were actively serving, then they are to be tried under military law." The AG responded.

* * *

Xander was having a delightful conversation with Penny Halliwell when his cell phone rang. Excusing himself for a moment, he answered and listed as Giles used a non-standard greeting.

"You bloody idiot! Do you have any idea how close you came to ending the world?" Giles's voice came through loud enough that even Penny heard it from the next room over.

"Hi, Giles. I am doing great. Mrs Halliwell was able to merge the spirits into me with no side effects so far. I have to say the benefits are pretty spectacular, especially the improvements to my hearing. OH, and she also was able to make the protection charm I had talked about with you. One charm keeps me from being spied on by magic and also keeps anyone from messing with my head as well. I don't know how you met this charming lady. She is too nice for someone who knows you by normal means." Xander paused as from the other end of the call he heard several thumps in addition to the choked laughter from Penny Halliwell in the room behind Xander. "Giles, what reason do you have for abusing the wall in such a manner? What did it ever do to you?"

In a much calmer, probably forced, tone Giles responded. "Xander, would you please explain what you did in Sunnydale? And why you decided to risk opening the Hellmouth?"

"Opening it? I made sure not to plant anything near the school. I used a map of Sunnydale and planned out where I planted the charges. I put a forty five pound propane tank, with two gallons of anhydrous hydrogen peroxide and forty pounds of propane, wrapped with det cord and a thermite charge linked to an radio detonator all at least a half mile from the Hellmouth. Using the map of town, I drew a circle half a mile from the school and another one a mile from school. I spaced out seven charges on the inner circle, and fourteen on the outer one. I had one left and popped it under Willie's bar, the guy was a creep who kept O-Pos on tap for his vampire customers." Before he had finished speaking, he heard the gasp from Penny.

"Xander, by chance did you happen to look at the combined map that included all of the underground tunnels and chambers and how they interconnected?" Giles asked.

"I only used the utility tunnels and sewer system. The old caves had too many demons in them for me to safely navigate. Just curious, by why are you asking?"

"When Oz told me you had placed charges underground, I had him make a combined map to make sure there were no adverse possibilities if any explosives were used. God forbid if a cave in caused several blocks of occupied houses to collapse into a sinkhole."

Xander thought a moment. "I do remember a map I saw in the folder he handed me. It was behind the ones I was using. I don't remember what was on it, it looked kinda familiar though."

"If it is the one in my hand right now, I would bloody well hope so. It is a close resemblance to a seven spoked wheel, with the center being the Hellmouth. Between the natural caves, sewers, and utility tunnels, it was a complete circle with seven paths from the outside perimeter to the Hellmouth. It explains the reason for the call from Devon. A little after three in the morning yesterday, I received a call saying the Hellmouth had opened. While on the phone, they said something had countered it, not just... A moment please, Xander." After a few seconds, Giles returned. "Ask Penny if she has a television. Have her tune to the news, any station would work according to Oz."

Following Giles's instructions, Xander asked Penny to turn on the TV and check for news. Within a few moments, the TV screen was showing an ariel view of Sunnydale from several thousand feet. "... The destruction looks contained within a circle for the most part, with the missing ground located in the center." The camera view rotates to show where the high school once stood. There in the center of the screen was a crater, perfectly round. It showed virtually no damage from the explosives, and the tunnels and caves that opened into the six hundred foot deep bowl seemed to be intact when excluding the missing earth. "No one is sure how the crater was formed, and it does not appear to be from any explosive or nuclear weapon known to exist. What should be where the crater is now is the local High School. So far experts are..."

Xander returned his attention to his phone. "Giles, how the hell did that happen? I know I did not place ANYTHING under the school. I made sure of it. So please tell me what the fuck caused that!" Even though he was on a phone, with Giles many miles away, he still pointed at the television screen while the voice from the TV droned on.

"That is what I was attempting to tell you, Xander. Oz showed me where you planted the explosives, and according to his marks on the map, you placed them in a way that would channel the blasts through the tunnels where they would end up striking the seal over the Hellmouth."

Xander was silent as Giles finished talking. It took him a few moments to respond. "Um... Sorry?"

"I do not think that would be sufficient for this, however, it appears luck was on your side. According to the coven, after the Hellmouth opened an extremely powerful surge of energy ,identical to that of the Hellmouth itself, struck it causing what they are calling an inversion. It was sufficient to overload the Hellmouth and turn it back onto itself. The damage to this side of the portal was minimal, and I would not want to be on the other side. If the inversion had forced both ends to focus on this dimension, the resulting explosion would likely be several thousand miles in diameter."

Penny was too far away to hear what was being said. As she watched, Xander went pale, and began to sweat. A few seconds later, the phone fell from his hands as he collapsed in a dead faint. It took Penny moments to grab the phone and let Giles know Xander had passed out. Then she hung up on him. Quickly she set the phone down and reached for Xander. He was not unconscious for long, and within twenty seconds he was awake again.

"I don't suppose you heard the conversation." Xander spoke.

"No, but I did see the devastation on TV. From what I did hear when you first answered the phone, and what you said yourself, I assume you are the one responsible for the destruction of an entire city?"

"Not what I had planned. I was trying to clear out the demons and vampires that lived underground. They killed people every night, and the last straw was when they killed a thirteen year old girl named Kennedy. They went too far, so I hit back." Xander said softly. Then he started from the beginning of his introduction to the supernatural and everything that had happened up to thus point.

It was late in the afternoon when Xander had brought Penny up to date on what had happened. At multiple points in his story, she had seen tears fall from his eyes as his emotions broke free. She offered what comfort she could, and made sure he knew he too overwhelmed. By the end of the story, even Penny felt revulsion toward the actions of the Watcher's Council. From what she had learned today alone, she was surprised that her friend Rupert had belonged to such a group. She would be having a long conversation with the man about his own sins when it came to the girl he had been supposed to support. She looked at Xander once he was silent, having finished speaking. He seemed worn out, his soul likely in tatters from the loss of so much at such a young age.

"Alexander. I may have joked about it this morning, about you being a man. Considering what you have told me, and you probably left out quite a bit, I realize I was correct in saying so. You have not been a child for several years now. Between what you have faced and the decisions you have had to make, you are a adult by any definition of the word. You have had to do things no one should ever have to do. My guest room is yours for as long as you need it. Why don't you go sit in the living room while I prepare dinner. I was planning on making soup if you are hungry."

Xander nodded. "Thank you. Most people would have called the funny farm by now." Slowly standing he moved to her and gave her a hug which she returned. After a few seconds, he released her and moved to the living room. Xander sat on the couch, turning to the TV which was tuned to the cable news station. For the next twenty minutes, he sat there blankly staring at the screen.

His attention was piqued when a solid color filled the screen, red background with the words 'Emergency Press Conference' scrolling across. It took him a moment to return his thoughts to the real world from where they had been. Picking up the remote for the TV, he turned up the volume. The news caster's voice rose. "... conference called by the Attorney General. We go live now."

"Penny? You may want to get in here." Xander called out as he watched the image on the TV change. The screen how showed a small stage with a podium. Next to the podium were fifteen large file boxes stacked in three tall columns. Penny entered the room to stand next to the sofa as a man walked on stage to stand at the microphone.

"I am sorry for the short notice, as well as the lack of press briefing packets we normally hand out prior to a press conference. Unfortunately, this could not wait." The AG said. "For those who are watching, a press packet is usually fifteen or so pages that give a summary of what is being talked about, to allow the reporters in the room to prepare questions. There will be no questions today. Due to the information I will be speaking about, the press packet is vastly insufficient. The stack of boxes next to me is the subject of today. I have to say that in my entire life I have never seen a case this vast or terrifying. As such, the press packet is being emailed to the news desks of every network and all of it's affiliates. It is about five hundred pages long." He paused for a few moments as he collected his thoughts.

"Approximately a month ago, nine people were murdered in Sunnydale, California..." Over the next hour, the AG spoke of receiving several massive information packets from an anonymous source. Then he described how they were unable to prove any of the information as being false or planted. During his presentation, he steadfastly refused to mention any names of those involved, due to the case being active. Once the events of the explosion outside Los Angeles were brought up, he revealed it was caused by non-nuclear explosives, likely in possession of the men found dead at the scene.

Then he moved on to the discovery of the almost complete corruption of the government of the city of Sunnydale. The one name he mentioned was the man Xander knew of as the Chief of Police, Bob Monroe. His picture appeared in the corner of the screen along with his real name, with details of why he was wanted in print under it. Pressing forward, information about the second hit team, the one that had died only a few days earlier, expanded on the terrorist theme. Once he began explaining the so far undeniable truth of government employees being part of this foreign group, the press began to stir. Again no names were used, but everyone knew the names would be public as soon as charges were filed in court. The AG seemed diminished somehow as he spoke to how badly law enforcement and the government had been penetrated.

Finally he arrived at the topic of the devastation of Sunnydale itself. Presenting what information he had, the public and press both were given evidence of a connection between this new terrorist group and the explosions around Sunnydale that had caused the evacuation of the town and surrounding area. "...the ATF raided the hanger at the airport and discovered very similar explosives to what was used outside Los Angeles, and per the experts at the ATF, likely what was used in Sunnydale. Due to the overwhelming evidence of recent and past crimes going back at least fifty years, and the current events that have caused so much damage and injury, the Government of the United States of America is officially declaring the so called 'Watcher's Council' and all of it's associated organizations and members to be part of a terrorist organization. We are calling for our allies around the world to follow us in this action. As of this moment, any US Citizen who is part of this group is considered a traitor and will be charged with treason against the United States and will face the punishment for such. Any foreign citizens who are part of this group and are found inside the United States or it's territories will be tried for terrorism, and the appropriate sentences carried out." Without a moment's pause, the AG stepped back and calmly walked out of the room as the press erupted in a roar worthy of a heavy metal concert. The screen changed back to the usual newscaster, who sat with a look of shock frozen on his face. After another fifteen seconds, the screen was filled with black, only displaying the words 'We are experiencing technical difficulties. We will be back on the air shortly.'

Xander let out his held breath. "Well.. Fuck."

"Normally I would admonish you for such talk, but in this case I agree." Came the reply from Penny.


End file.
